Ready To Run-A One Direction Story
by seaecho
Summary: Sweden, June 2015. After two years of being controlled, Harry and Louis decide to escape for some time alone. Larry Stylinson, sexual situations, some language.
1. Chapter 1

_Harry, my love._

 _Why don't you look at me?_

 _At least give me a little smile?_

It had been ages since Louis had seen Harry smile. _Really_ smile, not just the fabricated ones he displayed onstage. Those happened because he more or less had to- was obligated to, but they weren't the genuine, heartfelt, truly happy smiles that Louis yearned for so much that it squeezed his heart, and damn it, it hurt. It really, really _hurt._ It couldn't come close to comparing to the kind of smile Harry had always had plastered on his face when he and Lou were together.

 _Together._ It almost sounded foreign now. Doing everything he could think of to lure Harry into noticing him, but it was as if Louis didn't exist in Harry's world anymore. God, it hurt like what agony must feel like . . . Louis didn't think he'd suffered true agony before, but if it was anything like this . . . how could a person be expected to survive it?

A balloon. A balloon might be worth a try. Doing something funny with a balloon. _Anything_ to cheer Harry up. For so damn long, he'd tried, everything from overdone water fights with Liam to horsing around and being excessively silly with Niall, and he wasn't about to give up now.

So many times he'd wanted to scream, _"Notice me Harry!"_ into the microphone, right in the middle of a concert.

There they were in Sweden, on tour, June of 2015, and they were singing "Little Things" in concert. Louis was desperate. Harry had hardly acknowledged him for two years, and Louis, being the determined, fearless lad he was, knew in his heart that Harry was still in love with him. So he wasn't going to leave it alone.

He loved Harry to no end. Since the day they'd met five years ago, there had been a connection between all the lads, but Harry and Louis had been a love story just waiting to happen. Almost from the very beginning. They were friends for a while. Actually, about a year. And then that friendship took a serious turn. And everything became discombobulated. Out of control. Scary out of control.

What had, at first, been a spark as they played and rough housed together, burst into a white-hot flame. That was desire. On the surface. But it was so much more than simple, basic desire. So much deeper. They'd been close friends, toured together, done some crazy stuff, seen some amazing sights at all the places they'd been. They were part of a band, and the world adored them. They were an almost overnight success. They'd traveled the world. Crowds of fifty thousand, sold out, everywhere they went. The fans were screaming, jumping, crying maniacs, and this was so foreign to them. They'd had some huge adjustments to make. And through it all, they'd had each other.

They'd shared it all. Making hit records. Staying up all night, existing on fast food, learning how to disguise themselves in public (that sometimes worked and sometimes did not), doing interviews, video diaries, winning awards—all this brought Harry and Louis ever closer and closer, until the day they knew they couldn't deny it any longer. Louis even remembered the exact moment that it dawned on him. He'd felt something, although he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe, at first, he'd been afraid to know.

The close friendship continued, but an ingredient was added. They began flirting with each other. It went on forever. A delicious forever. Wanting each other's attention. _Craving_ it. Doing almost anything to get it. Then one day, the universe changed for them. Harry had been seventeen by then, and Louis was nineteen.

They told themselves they were young guys experimenting. No big deal, they tried to reason. Truth was, neither one was a virgin. They had _chosen_ this path together. Even though there were willing girls everywhere. As time went on, they became closer, until they, at last, had to profess their love for each other. And, surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it came easily and naturally.

It became a torrid love affair. More intense and powerful than either could have fathomed. A whirlwind. Hardly being able to wait to get their hands on each other. Breaths quickening when the other walked into a room. Kissing, staring into each other's eyes, holding hands, were just as important as making love. The torment of being apart when it was occasionally necessary, was almost too much to bear.

But then the other lads caught on, the fans caught on, and worst of all, management caught on. That was the beginning of the nightmare. They were severely admonished, told not to stare at each other, touch each other, sit next to each other, or hardly even _look_ at each other. They were watched closely, and the only time they could be together, alone, was in the tour bus at night when the other lads were in a hotel. When that was discovered, it was also banned.

Slowly, they drifted apart. Not from choice, but necessity. They couldn't go against the rules, the contract. They couldn't be spotted _anywhere_ in public or word would surely get back to the powers that be. So, in order not to get caught, they stopped seeing each other except onstage or at practice, photo shoots, interviews, and things of that nature. No more mutual hotel rooms, much less mutual suites. No more talking long into the night, and the worst of all, no more touching.

Two years. Two years remembering all those nights of passion, all the sweet kisses in the dark, the dreams unveiled, the plans of a future together. Louis would do anything to bring the light back to Harry's eyes, take away the wistfulness, the melancholy on his face that tore Louis' insides to shreds.

 _He loved him. Oh God, how he loved him._

Balloons were onstage. Blue ones and yellow ones. Louis and Harry sat about eight feet apart, leaden hearts weighing them down so they could hardly function well enough to get through yet another concert. Harry was singing when it was his turn, waving occasionally to the crowd, forcing empty smiles at the fans.

Louis blew up a blue balloon. He decided to experiment. He looked over and took in Harry's beautiful hair that had now grown past his shoulders, his perfect face, moist pink lips, those brooding green eyes that stared into the distance. The scowl that, nowadays, often took the place of his dimpled smile. Maybe he was looking at the audience, and maybe at nothing.

Louis tried not to remember Harry's gentle hands on him. Always careful, considerate. He'd longed for Harry's touch, but all he got now was a half-look, and then Harry's head would swivel the other way. And no more smiles that were just for him. Louis realized the importance of not interacting, but this was picking his heart apart, piece by piece.

So he held the blue balloon out toward Harry and let it go so the air was released from it, being careful not to allow it to hit Harry in the face. As the air escaped, the balloon careened through the air, circling and looping around Harry, who looked around in surprise. Liam was singing now so Harry was momentarily free. Louis quickly blew up another blue balloon. It was the color of his eyes—that fact didn't escape him, and maybe it wouldn't escape Harry either. Desperation drove him on. Hey, he needed all the help he could get. Heart pounding, he held the balloon out to Harry, and Harry leaned over to poke at it, as if to pop it.

Then it happened. The world smiled on Louis. Harry broke out into the most beautiful, delightful sunshine smile—the kind that Louis had been deprived of for two years. Dimples and all.

Louis' heart swelled. To see Harry smile like this once again was all the reward he needed. But he was greedy. He wanted more. The first gesture like this in so long was mind boggling, and it made his hopes rise just a little bit. If they rose too much, he'd crash, so he didn't allow it.

 _Oh Harold. Remember? Of course you do!_

The magic of the moment was not lost on Niall and Liam. They watched on somewhat discreetly, curious, with maybe a touch of envy. Maybe they could feel a little of the magic.

Focused now, Louis blew up a yellow balloon and let it go. But he dared not approach Harry that directly again. Twice was enough, and Louis didn't want Harry to be threatened or yelled at by management.

Harry kept watching him though, being sneaky about it with sidelong glances. Louis knew it, could feel his bright green eyes penetrating his every move. It felt as warm as the gentle Swedish sunshine.

Just playing—Harry was just playing, that was all. Louis tried to tell himself that, so that his aching heart wouldn't be bitterly disappointed if Harry went right back to the same somber person after the concert.

 _Harry, my love._

 _I've missed you so._

Getting through the rest of that concert was an almost insurmountable challenge for Louis. He had to put energy and spunk into it. It was important to keep the fans happy and entertained. And not just because of management, but for the fans themselves. He loved them, and he owed it to them many times over.

When the last song was done, Harry's eyes looked sorrowful once again, and he appeared lethargic; you could almost say apathetic. Like he'd been carrying the weight of the world without letting the world know. Merely carrying on, just existing.

The lads bowed, then walked off stage and hustled to their waiting limos. Well, he'd done what he could. It was just a little gesture, but Louis hoped Harry had somehow picked up on the good feelings he'd sent his way.

They were walking single file, right next to a fence, and Louis and Harry were the last two in line.

"Lou . . ." a soft voice behind him. "Don't look back at me. But thanks . . . "

The shock of it made Louis' heart hammer in his ears. So Harry had taken notice of Louis' effort and appreciated it, and that was all the reassurance Louis needed for the moment. It was something . . .

Taking a huge venture, and knowing it was a hazard, but not being able to rein himself in, Louis slowed his pace just a bit, his head turned to the side so Harry could hear him and said, "At the end of this fence row, take a sharp right and we'll run down the fence and then into that shelter out there," he indicated the run-down building with a barely noticeable jerk of his head. "If we're fast, we'll be out of sight before anyone notices we're gone." He said this while looking like he was gazing over the fence and into the pastures so as not to catch anyone's attention. Then he held his breath.

There was no response. His heart literally sank and he sighed in defeat. He felt like a fool, but at least he could look back on this some day and say he'd tried—he'd honestly tried.

"Okay," came the answer only seconds before they reached the end of the fence. Louis' pulse thumped up into his throat and a tremendous surge of adrenaline shot through him. They'd have to be fast. He was a fast runner himself, so no sweat. But Harry was not the most graceful or athletic, and Louis hoped he didn't fall flat on his face. That would be the end of it, then and there. They would just barely have enough time as it was.

The end of the fence appeared, and Louis dove to the right, sprinting close to the fence on the opposite side, head down, for about seventy-five feet, then cutting sharply to the left and finishing at the old run-in shed designed for sheep about fifty feet later. Not a long run, but could Harry keep up? He heard Harry behind him, so he knew Curly was really pushing it. Normally Harry could not keep up with him. So this was a very good sign for the Doncaster lad, who realized gleefully that Harry was deadly serious about this.

They squeezed into the opening in the front, opposite where they'd come from. Both were breathing hard, and when Louis spoke, it was in a whisper, just in case, although no one but Harry could possibly hear him. "Let's wait here to see what they do—maybe they'll drive off." But he knew _that_ notion was ridiculous. No way would they not be missed. But he had to keep Harry with him, physically as well as mentally. He couldn't let Harry panic.

 _Stay in the moment._

This was absolutely the closest Louis had been to Harry in a very long time. He actually felt the heat from his former lover's body—they were standing that close. Louis ground his teeth to maintain control.

"Man, what if they think we were kidnapped or something? They can't help but notice we're not there. They'll freak out!" Harry's eyes, now wide, mesmerized him, shining such a bright, gorgeous green in the moonlight that it nearly knocked Louis to his knees. They actually sparkled.

He sputtered at first, struggling to talk; to get past the fierce attraction he had for this lad.

"They'll search, of course, but by the time they start looking, we can creep along that line of trees and get lost in the dark." Thank goodness, it was nearly dark now. "Too many places to hide, and they'll have to give up," added Louis.

It was true there was virtually a forest of birch trees. They had a good chance. . .

"I'll call one of the guys as soon as we can and tell them to tell the body guards we're okay. Otherwise they'll be cops, helicopters and dogs all over the place."

Harry nodded, having full faith in Louis and his judgment, even though the firey lad was prone to mischief. Louis wouldn't guide them wrong. Not when it was this important, this imperative that they use great caution.

 _In order to be together . . . alone._

And frankly, Harry was so overwhelmingly grateful for this . . . escapade of theirs, thanks to Louis' quick thinking. Harry was still in shock, but he knew he could count on Louis to make the right decisions, so he followed him blindly, no questions asked.

There was no time to talk at the moment, though Louis longed to. He'd been mooning over Harry for so long, and ached to tell him about it, ask Harry how he felt. But there would be time for that later. Right now they had to watch, wait and listen. Peering through the misshapen and dilapidated boards of the long unused sheep shelter, they watched the limos and the movement around them.

Soon it was apparent that one of the body guards was alerted. He was looking about anxiously. It had been noticed they were missing. Within a few moments, body guards along with roadies were starting to comb the immediate area around the limos and fence. Several started to enter the field where the shed was.

"Alright, they're starting to head this way, but at a walk. We can slip through the shadows under those birches, and we'll be home free." Louis wished he felt as much confidence as he feigned. For the first time in two years, Louis grabbed Harry's hand, guiding him to the opening in the shed, and then hissing, "Follow me, like you did before." He took flight, and fleet he was!

Harry had to pull his hand free almost immediately, or risk having his shoulder ripped off, and struggled to stay within ten feet of Louis, his lungs burning by the time they'd gone a few hundred yards. Louis slowed to a walk, smiling at Harry in triumph. Harry returned the smile, then took note of how Louis was checking out the other side of the street to the east of where the limos were parked.

"We made it 'through the dark,' Hazza!" he said proudly.

"Hotel!" Louis said a moment later, and the two of them took long running strides to the other side of the street and into the lobby of the hotel, hoping they wouldn't be seen by any of the crew. Unlikely now though, as it was almost completely dark.

"They'll never think to look here!" Louis smiled over his shoulder at a breathless, pale Harry. It wasn't a high priced hotel, but it had a pool, and Louis liked that. He and Harry both loved to swim.

Since most Swedes speak English, they didn't have any trouble checking in, and luckily they had Swedish money on them and were able to pay and get into their room quickly.

The clerk had asked if one double bed would do, as that was all he had available. With crimson cheeks, Louis had nodded. Harry just stood there, doing a rather bad job of looking indifferent.

The room was on the second floor and spacious, with a refrigerator. The loo had a huge shower and big, fluffy towels, and the room itself was very clean and cheerful, painted in pale yellow. Louis especially loved the balcony. It was as if they were no longer famous, and pleased with simple things, as they had once been before the X-Factor had even entered their minds. Louis glanced at the double bed with its down comforter. It looked so inviting. . .

"It doesn't get dark here until after ten in summer as you can see," Louis explained to Harry. "That darkness helped a lot in our escape. In fact, I think we would've been caught if not for the darkness. And they have a very relaxed attitude in Sweden about nudity. Just right for you!" He injected the humor because Harry was looking on the nervous, jittery side.

Harry laughed, relaxation beginning to creep up on him. "Right up my alley! And why do they speak English?"

"Swedish is very, very hard to learn." Louis was glad he'd researched a little before they came. He was hoping against hope that he could talk Harry into staying here for a couple of days. "Also, they don't tend to mob celebrities like they do in the U.S. and the U.K. They more or less just stare. This is really ideal!"

Harry's smile was huge and stunning, and Louis had to fight against grabbing him and kissing him like he used to. He felt something hot and unfamiliar in his gut.

 _Shyness._ Yes, it had been a long time.

"Anyway, gotta call, right this minute. I think Liam would be best. What do you think?" Harry nodded, agreeing Liam would be the best choice under the circumstances.

Liam was fit to be tied. "Where the hell are you guys?" His voice carried a hint of panic.

"Secret," said Louis. Liam was actually happy for the two of his mates, but he'd been worried to death, as had the others.

"I looked around and you two were gone! Just like that! I shoulda known though. . . ."

"I wanted to call you as soon as possible so the search party can be called off. We're safe and here in town. But we want to be alone."

Silence while Liam processed this information.

"How long will you be gone? We're leaving in two days, ya know."

"We'll be back by time to leave. Don't know any specifics right now. All depends on Harry."

 _Okay_. So that told Liam a whole hell of a lot. All he really needed to know, in fact.

"What should I tell the others? Like management, ya know?"

"I hate to get you involved, Liam. So just, for now, tell 'em I called and we're fine and we'll be back in time to board the plane. I'll take it from there." Louis would pay the consequences. It was worth it to be alone with Harry. And he didn't want to even think about going back right now. All his energy and attention was going to be on Harry and their time together. Talking to him, discovering him again.

"Gotcha. Take care, Tommo."

When Louis hung up, Harry was staring at him. The way he used to. As if he'd never seen him before and Louis was some glorious spectacle. Louis had often wondered if Harry would ever stare at him like that again. And, after all this time, it was happening . . .

"Lou . . . baby," whispered Harry. It was as if the world fell away. Louis stopped breathing, and wondered if he might just die.

"Harry, I _missed_ you." He went for broke. "I wanted to kiss you, hold you, multiple times every concert, every interview. But we had to keep our fooking hands off each other!" Louis' voice dripped with venom. "I could kill them!"

Before another second passed, they were in each other's arms. And it was just as it had always been, just two years removed. Harry's warm breath brushed over Louis' neck, followed by his lips. Louis gasped out loud, tossing his head back to give Harry full access. Harry's gentle sucking and licking on his neck always fired him up, but honestly it wouldn't have made any difference _what_ Harry did right now. Louis was so hungry for him, his need so urgent.

The feel of Harry under his hands almost made him hit the roof. The old, familiar loving feelings started crowding in, and overcome with emotion, they both started to cry. Great sobs emanated from their throats. They hadn't even had the chance to kiss yet, and they were crying like babies. Louis hadn't felt Harry's lips on his for two solid years. It was too much to process, and apparently Harry felt the same way.

"I _hated_ having to look away from your eyes, Louis, but I knew if I kept looking at you, I'd have to come to you. I wouldn't be able to stop. I hope you know that . . . for the last two years, I've spent every waking hour thinking about you. And every time I saw you, you'd look even more gorgeous than I remembered, and so soft and sweet that I felt like someone was choking the life out of me."

Louis had been hurting so badly that he didn't realize how much it had hurt Harry to have to ignore him. He should have known. Harry had done an excellent job of it. Indeed, he'd even fooled _Louis._

"I thought maybe you were moving on, even though I knew we weren't supposed to have any contact. I have to say you did an admirable job of avoiding me."

I had no choice, Boo. I didn't want them to speak harshly to you, especially knowing it had been my fault."

They grabbed tissues from the night stand, wiped their eyes, blew their noses, and then lay down together on the bed, cuddling and holding and, at last, the magical kissing like they had used to do in the old days. The days when they had taken it for granted, thinking they'd always have it.

The touch, the rub, the stroking of Harry's lips on his for the first time since they'd escaped made Louis feel the years drain away, like so much water down the drain. They couldn't get enough of each other, tasting each other again and again, everything coming back in a rush. Those long, leisurely, yet emergent kisses they remembered so well whenever they'd been alone. Stolen behind buildings, backstage, in the tour bus, even underwater. The nights had been the cream of the crop though because they could take their time without having to look over their shoulders, luxuriating in the feel of each other.

They waited until it was completely dark—another half an hour before they went out to the pool. By that time, there was no one out there, and it wasn't likely they'd be recognized.

Of keen importance to Louis was that they follow their tradition of earlier days. Harry had started it, and it had come to be cherished by the both of them. Flirting, smiling, sweet, brief touches on the cheek, the hair. But nothing more involved than kisses—for now. Louis didn't want to just jump into bed. Their old patterns of behavior were a ritual between them. Even though they were burning up for each other, they waited. It had always been that way with them.

The routine has always been to hold off as long as they could. Louis supposed the practice had begun when they were performing. They couldn't kiss, hold hands or show hardly any affection there, having to wait until afterward. And they discovered that it led to some mighty explosive, wanton lovemaking when they were finally alone. Even better than if they hadn't held off. And that was saying a lot. A hell of a lot.

Both of them were hard as steel in their boxer briefs as they entered the warm water of the pool. But it didn't matter—there was no one to see them except for each other.

"We can just hang our underwear over the shower rod overnight. And if they aren't dry enough tomorrow we'll just leave them off," said Louis slyly, and Harry's look of approval said he agreed.

"And since people shouldn't swarm us, we can go get an extra set of clothes or two tomorrow at one of the shops if you want."

Louis had noticed various restaurants and a mini mall in the area. They could walk to most, or take a cab if they so desired.

"Yeah, since we'll be here two days," said Harry, and that one statement lit Louis up because now he knew Harry really _wanted_ to spend the two remaining days in Sweden alone with him—had approved of Louis' hint.

Harry was tantalizing him, and he wasn't doing a damn fucking thing. Just being Harry, but's that's all it took. Louis was falling apart, and what made it even worse was when Harry surfaced after diving under the water. His wet hair had fallen completely into his face, and he looked so sexy. So touchable . . .

They swam for an entire two or three minutes before they latched onto each other. Harry was really aggressive, making the first move, and that caused Louis to be even more amorous. He'd been trying not to attack Harry since they entered the pool. Hell, he'd been holding himself back for the duration of countless concerts. And to have Harry come on to him like this was more than pleasant. It made Louis feel like the most desirable person in the universe.

Harry liked it slow and easy for a warm-up, Louis knew that because he knew Harry like a book, cover to cover. Every word, every line, every chapter. Harry liked the tease, the flirting. So to have Harry be so aggressive was incredibly inflaming. They had always, without exception, made love right after a show. Two hours of mouthwatering torture had made for some fierce desire.

And now, alone together with no one to stop them, no one to give them stern looks. No one to film them or take photos, no one asking questions.

The undercurrent of extreme need was present, even though the kiss was slow. Tonight Harry was the ringmaster, and Louis would follow his lead. He'd follow Harry _anywhere._ He loved the memory of denying themselves, then later giving into their passion. He knew what was ahead for them tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

"God, when I see you wet on stage after a water fight, I get so hard . . . " Harry was whispering into Louis' ear, even though no one was around to hear him. It made the words seem twice as intimate. "The few times you tried to sign to me about us being secret lovers, or rather, _past_ secret lovers, without getting caught-the handful of times we dared to look at each other for an instant, I knew what you were thinking. That we belong together. But I couldn't do a fucking thing about it!"

A little unusual for Harry to use that word, except when making love, Louis knew he was really distressed.

"I wanted to drag you off that stage, Harry. You don't know how close I came to it a few times. I wanted to _make_ you acknowledge me, because I knew in my heart you wanted me just as I wanted you."

"I did, Boo. I did. I had to restrain every muscle in my body not to run to you and crush you against me, never let you go again. And you know the crowd would have gone wild. They love us—the majority of them want to see us together."

"Yeah, and that's the shittiest part of it. We could be happy together _in front_ of the crowd, if management would get their heads out of their asses and realize it would actually be _good_ for our fame."

Kissing Harry again felt like no time had passed at all since they'd been forced apart. They slipped back in time smoothly and instinctively. It was easy. Too easy. Louis wondered how he'd gone so long without Harry's mouth on his, Harry's arms holding him close. All those nights he'd cried himself to sleep.

Fervently kissing, yet being so artfully gentle with each other. Like kittens. Soft, sweet, tender. Harry opened his mouth, Louis followed his lead. Harry sucked Louis' bottom lip just like he used to, growling all the while, letting Louis know through their own exclusive language how much he wanted him. There was no past anymore. Everything was _now._

Louis contemplated how Harry loved to talk during love making. His low, hypnotic voice had always made Louis feel like the most desirable guy in the world. Harry talked sweet and loving, but he could also talk dirty in bed, a startling contradiction to the Harry other people knew. He was a beautiful enigma. And Louis took pride in that. He had been privy to a Harry others never got to see. Harry reserved that part of himself for Louis.

It seemed that forever was not long enough when they kissed. Louis sensed Harry wanted to pounce on him after these two years, but this gorgeous hunk of man also wanted to make it as good as he possibly could. Louis wondered how long either of them would be able to hold out.

They held each other in the pool, on the steps, sitting and caressing cheeks, necks, backs. Hands wandering, remembering with no effort all the curves, all the ticklish places, all the erogenous zones, and all this without going below their navels. But they mostly they just stared into each others' eyes. Because that had always been what they most cherished. It was how it had all begun. It had ignited them every time. Made them hungry . . .

Neither one shrank from it. It had been denied them for so long. There was no shyness now, nor had there ever been. They craved that intimate eye contact, because it was just as intimate as anything else they had ever done. Their desire for each other was bottomless.

"I love you, Hazza."

"Hey, I was just getting ready to say that! I love you Lou." When Harry nuzzled his neck, Louis felt goose flesh rising and a flame roared to life within him. Oh, just to hear Harry say those words again after all this time! His heart felt as if it were being squeezed like a sponge.

"Wanna go back inside?" Harry had dropped his head to rest it on Louis' shoulder, and Louis held it against his chest tightly.

 _His curly Haz_

No one would ever keep them apart again, even if it killed him. They would sneak around like they'd done before. The fear of being caught had stopped it before, but now . . . now that they were together again, Louis wasn't going down without a fight. He'd play the game in public, but being without Harry completely for two years had nearly destroyed him, and it wouldn't happen again, no matter what the cost. He'd do whatever it took, and he knew without question or hesitation that Harry felt the same.

"How did I live without you for so long?" Harry was flabbergasted, his love for Louis spilling over into both his words and actions. He was hanging onto Louis as soon as Louis got the door to their room closed.

"How did we _both_ do it?" Was how Louis addressed that query. "Cold, innit? Let's take these wet underwear off and dry ourselves," Louis' voice, which had softened considerably, was positively entrancing Harry, who took a moment to shake himself out of his spellbound state.

They removed their underwear, and Louis took the wet boxer briefs into the loo to squeeze them out and hang them on the shower curtain. Hyper aware of the feel of the fabric under his fingers, Louis managed the task with difficulty. Harry was dominating every thought, every move.

Harry watched him go, practically hypnotized by that lean muscled golden body. Louis was his again . . .

After they had each toweled their own bodies dry, Louis began drying Harry's hair, and when wet, it went almost to the middle of his back. The springiness of the curls made it appear shorter than it actually was when dry. Running a comb through it, the comb seemed to float forever before reaching the ends.

They were so familiar with each other's bodies, yet it had been so long that it was extra special because every touch felt like the first time. Although, in the past, Louis recollected that every time had been like the first time. In any case, this love had endured for five years. But was Harry's love as deep as his own? He wanted to believe every word Harry had said tonight. But there was a moment of doubt . . . Was he playing in a fool's paradise? If so, he'd give up whatever he had to, in order to preserve what they had right now.

Something knotted in Louis' belly. God, Harry was sexy. Sitting behind Harry on the bed while combing, he leaned down and half nibbled, and half sucked at an area halfway down Harry's back, as he had done in an interview in the past. On camera. Harry gasped and immediately remembered it like it had happened yesterday. The gasp was primarily because the feel of Louis' mouth set him on fire, but the memory of what it had done to him during the interview played an even stronger part.

"Holy shit, Lou! Do you know how much you excited me when you did that on camera? Just like now."

It was music to Louis' ears. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind about Harry's continuing love for him, it had just dissolved completely.

"I knew it," confirmed Louis. "I did it because I wanted to see your reaction—see you try to keep your composure."

Louis was thinking about how every time he'd heard Harry's rich chuckle, his sultry voice, it had followed him, haunted him, hunted him down.

When the combing was done, Harry lay back on the bed, his head on a pillow, motioning Louis to join him. Louis was quick to comply, pulling just the bedspread over the two of them. Both were breathing hard, and they hadn't even touched each other yet. They didn't need to—a look was more than enough.

But he knew Hazza. He'd seen the same expression on Harry's features so many times in the past. Nothing had changed. Harry wouldn't lie to him. He'd never lied to him before—he'd just done what was required, and that was to avoid Louis. To protect them both.

But now, consequences be damned, they were alone together, in bed, late at night, darkness except for the sliver of moonlight that settled across Harry's magnificent face, and highlighted those enchanting green eyes, the perfect face that made women woozy. And he was Louis.' All his.

Harry's skin was soft—it always had been. Yet he was rugged, all in the same package. That seemed impossible, but with Harry, anything was possible, and Louis had known that since the day he met him. Harry was no ordinary lad.

"I can't keep my composure now either," Harry continued their earlier discussion. "You haunt my dreams, Boo. Even my daydreams. I'm never free of you, and I don't want to be."

"How's this? We'll be free together," Louis crooned. The thought had crossed Louis' mind that he'd be willing to pay millions to get out of the contract. But he didn't even know if that was possible. They were young, inexperienced. Largely dependent on professionals as far as big decisions went in matters of finance and law.

Harry was silent, soaking it up.

"Now? In this moment? Or for good?" Harry's eyes were intent.

That threw Louis, but only a little bit. "For good?" he said tentatively, comprehension hard to fasten onto.

"We're millionaires, Lou. Couldn't we just 'disappear'? People have done it before, haven't they?" Harry's eyes were bright, and for a moment Louis thought he must be joking, and perhaps he was, in a way. Not joking in the proper sense, but playing with ideas. A portion of Harry's thoughts seemed hopeful. Grasping at straws, as it were.

"We could. But what if we were caught?" Louis returned.

"I don't know. Never researched it," Harry looked disheartened.

"And how could we walk out on Niall and Liam like that?"

"You're right. It was just a pipe dream."

All kinds of lovely thoughts cascaded over Louis. _Together forever._ They had plenty of money. They could go anywhere. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. They'd have to have excellent disguises at all times, and even so, they might still be discovered; word would get out. They'd have to change their names. Serious stuff.

"I could call my attorney tomorrow," Louis was serious as he could be, and Harry saw it in his eyes.

"You would do that for me? Consider it so much as to ask your attorney about it?" Harry's eyes were dilated with amazed wonder.

"Harry, I'd do just about _anything_ for you."

But deep down they both knew—they knew it would never work. They were famous worldwide; even leaving the country was not an option. So the conversation fizzled out, each of them not wanting it to let out of their grasp, clutching at it desperately but ultimately caving to the inevitability of their virtual enslavement.

They had this moment though. No one was going to come and drag them back. So Louis was going to capture all the love, warmth and ardor he could collect from Harry, and he was damn well going to return it too.

Focusing on each other was not a hardship. They eased back in time without a hitch. Louis was marveling over the feel of Harry—so brand new but on the opposite side, so familiar. Such a strange phenomenon.

"The feel of you was starting to fade, but it came back in an instant," whispered Harry, as if he'd been reading Louis' thoughts. Two years of gazing at each other when the eyes of others were diverted, both doing it, but at different times. Shrewd, subtle, prudent. Neither aware the other was doing the same.

Harry's hands whispered a path on Louis' skin. His touch was still a shock to Louis' system. Surreal. Harry captured his attention by merely breathing, by just _being._

Now Harry was here, in the same bed with him, really here, something Louis had feared would never occur again in their lives, and the impact of it was almost too great to bear. It appalled Louis that he and Harry had somehow subsisted for all that time without any physical contact.

 _And now he could touch him._

Louis watched the moonlight, filtering in between tree branches as it played over Harry's face, framed with long, loose waves and a couple of curls that almost formed ringlets _,_ still damp, and he counted his blessings. The love was too big for his heart. It sloshed over the rim, spilling and spreading everywhere. Louis had to concentrate on breathing.

"Without you, sometimes I wondered how I'd take my next breath," he said to Harry.

Harry's eyelashes fluttered as he looked slightly down, and then back up to Louis' almost ice-blue gaze.

"Yeah," he said. "It was hard for me to breathe sometimes too."

Louis was afraid to touch him. Haz was too perfect—he might break him. Worse yet, he might break the spell, or cause this magic to dissipate.

But Harry reached for him, unbridled passion in his forest green eyes.

"Lou," even being barely audible, it took only that one word to bring about an embrace that eclipsed all other embraces. No one could hug like Harry. And he had always saved this special signature hug just for Louis. Louis had watched him—Harry didn't hug anyone else quite like he hugged himself. Long, warm, tight, with great respect and fondness overflowing from every pore.

Love always came first with Harry. Especially now that they'd been apart. It was of paramount importance that he get that love across. It settled over Louis like a cloud, and he knew he'd come home.


	3. Chapter 3

_Home._

They lay there quietly, cuddling, Louis aware this was Harry's favorite thing to do. Savoring every moment, trying to comprehend the fact that there were no restrictions. None at all. It wasn't easy to get used to. It was a completely different life than they'd had for two years.

Louis was hyper aware of every breath Harry took, even the slightest movement from Harry causing his razor sharp awareness to peak.

Louis tried to speak his thoughts a few times, but each time, his mouth failed him. How could he ever articulate how strongly his heart beat for Harry? How could anything that felt so right be so damn wrong according to what seemed to be the rest of the world?

The moon was still at it, flickering and casting shadows, and then light, in turn, on Harry's face as it wove through tree branches outside their room. Harry's angel smile, his happiness, his utter peace. Peace that neither of them had possessed in ages. This was the way it _should_ be. They loved each other, and shouldn't ever have been regulated in the way they had been. It was wrong, to Louis' way of thinking, in a very elementary way.

"Want anything?" asked Harry, rolling onto his back and tucking his arms behind his head, looking so perfectly content.

Louis smiled devilishly.

"I meant room service," Harry grinned and poked at him. _The beckoning dimples were at it again._

"I didn't think they had that here."

"Yep, I read a sign outside by the pool. What do you want me to call for? Chocolate covered strawberries? Or maybe whipped cream?" Harry was teasing him, in the way he used to.

"Don't need any of that, Hazza, and you know it. You're more delicious than anything we could possibly order."

Harry had the decency to blush. After all, they were new to each other. In the old days, they could make all matter of jokes without an ounce of embarrassment, but this was kind of like a first date with an ex. You're a little shy and bashful, hesitant.

"Cheesecake. If anything, cheesecake," murmured Louis from the vicinity of Harry's armpit. "I hear Swedish cheesecake is a lot different from American cheesecake, but it's delicious. And yep, I researched Swedish foods too," admitted Louis with a touch of pride.

""Let's go for it then." Harry began to get up to call room service, but stopped when he felt Louis lightly running his finger through his armpit hair.

 _So silky,_ thought Louis.

Another erogenous zone that Louis had remembered. It kind of tickled, but felt much more sensual than anything. It made Harry's dick harder than it already was.

Louis made little satisfied noises in his throat, pleased with himself, because he had somewhat of a fetish for Harry's armpits. He nuzzled and even licked, continuing with the indulgent sounds.

"Good thing we just got outta the pool. Concert sweat, and all," Harry said a bit meekly—and breathlessly.

"Nah, I love your natural smell. So sexy." Louis went on to tickle and lick the other armpit, prolonging the feeling for his lover, wanting everything to be fantastic tonight. Harry was wondering if he'd explode if this continued much longer. Louis' tongue—pure sensuality.

"Ahhh . . . I'm sensitive, Lou. You know how you used to make me combust spontaneously with certain little things you did? Well, it's even worse now that we've been apart."

Boy, did Louis remember! _Damn!_ Just the thought of it excited Louis, because it had a domino effect. What excited Harry, excited him. He remembered every detail.

If he sat on Harry's lap, he'd had to be careful about how he moved, because Harry would quickly be right on the edge. Harry's nipples were like that too. Touch them too long, and Harry would be pleading for release. Even Louis' fingertips sliding along Harry's spine had caused Harry to arch his back and whimper, and any rubbing against each other—even fully clothed was precarious. Harry was such a sensual creature, and Louis just enjoyed the living hell out of it.

"Okay, Swedish cheesecake then," he said as he sat up, tearing himself away from Harry with great difficulty. If he didn't, he might go too far, and he wanted to stretch it the way Harry preferred. Or maybe Harry wanted it fast the first time, after so long of a break? In any case, he wanted Harry pleased to the max, so he erred on the side of safety and broke it off before things progressed to total lack of control.

Harry's eyes were mere slits now from the stimulation, both mental and physical. Hell, Louis hadn't even begun yet! His level of arousal was reaching new heights, thinking of what was in store for them, even after all the fantasies he'd had. And he'd had some wild ones. Having the real thing—Harry, was enough of an aphrodisiac in and of itself, even without touching him.

Louis' prominent erection could hardly be ignored when he reached for the phone, the comforter slipping down in the process. Harry's own erection was massive. He watched Louis order the cheesecake, that adoring look dominating his features. That look that Louis had hungered for. No one had ever looked at him like that.

 _And probably never, ever would again. So he'd better hold onto Harry,_ _ **tightly.**_ _He didn't want anyone else anyway._

Louis put his hand over the receiver. "Oh God. They want to know what we want on it. If I remember correctly, you like blueberry on top. God, I can hardly think."

Harry laughed. "Me brain is toast too. I think all the blood is going . . . elsewhere." This was the first reference either had made to sex, except for the whipped cream comment, and it was extremely heady.

Louis ordered one huge slice of cheesecake with blueberry topping. He was suffering tremendously from wanting Harry, but he'd play the game for as long as Harry wanted to drag it out. Harry was worth every minute, every second, of waiting. He was positively succulent.

Louis tried pushing the loving, lusty memories aside as they waited, but he was losing the battle. They kissed, becoming more needy by the second. The kiss deepened, they were devouring each other, and they gloried in the fact that they had no one to answer to. They could get lost in each other for as long as they wanted. What blessed luxury!

Louis was in the process of capturing Harry's tongue to suck it softly when the cheesecake arrived. Harry threw on his skinny jeans and answered the door, shirtless. The guy standing there openly stared at him. Louis could tell just how he was feeling. Harry was like a punch to the solar plexus when you weren't expecting it. Whether the guy recognized him or not, he didn't say, but he continued to gawk, and Louis knew he couldn't help himself. He'd felt the same way about Harry plenty of times himself. It didn't matter if you were gay or not either. Harry appealed strongly to both sexes in a surprising number of cases.

Louis felt pity for the guy. He was gazing into Harry's clear green eyes, in a trance, and unable to move. Harry handed him a tip, and it took the guy several seconds to realize it. When he did, he took the money hastily, and bowed out, still in a state of being bowled over by the lad's beauty. He stumbled as he stepped backward, still unable to pry his eyes away.

Louis laughed as Harry shut the door, thanking the guy in his ever-polite way.

"He's crushin' on ya," Louis teased.

"No he's not. I think he knows who I am, but can't place me," was Harry's explanation.

"He may or may not know you're in 1D, but he was still crushin' on ya. Been there meself, and I'm still there."

Harry's face was once again transparent, his pleased expression betraying how hard he tried to look impassive. But why? Why not just soak up Louis' love?

"I adore you, Lou. Don't know if I can bear to wait until after we have cheesecake to cuddle again with me Superman."

Harry treated him like a precious teddy bear, and Louis liked nothing more. All the endless nights they'd had . . .

They ate the cheesecake slowly, peering into each other's eyes, peeking into each other's souls. They fed it to each other, using the single spoon, loving the intimacy of it.

"We didn't order anything to drink," said Louis, disappointed. Harry opened the fridge to see it was stocked with soft drinks.

"I'm likin' Sweden," he said. He and Louis shared a bottle. Louis studied Harry's adam's apple bob up and down as he drank, his lips and tongue as he fed Harry another spoonful of cheesecake. He was staggered. He remembered all the wonderful things those lips had done to him in the past.

Grape, pineapple and strawberry were some of the flavors Louis detected in the Fanta Orange drink Harry had handed to him. Really delectable. And somehow very appropriate for tonight. Their love was just as sweet as the drink.

Scraping the last bit of cheesecake from the plate, Louis sensually licked it off the spoon as Harry's eyes speared every move, then Louis inserted his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry hungrily sucked it off. Louis almost creamed his jeans right then and there.

"You know when you sucked me tongue earlier?" Harry asked. "You used to do that in the old days, and I've thought about it just about every day since. Honest, I have."

"Well, suck mine a little more, and I'll give you all you want." Louis' come-hither eyes revealed his high state of arousal.

So Harry sought out Louis' tongue again and used more suction, ripping a mean from Louis' throat. Louis returned it afterward, this time with more gentle power, making them both wriggle and squirm.

After these lengthy, seductive kisses, Harry removed his jeans quickly and laid down again. Louis admired his beautiful member, jutting forward and up, fully erect. Back in the day, they had hardly been able to get close at all before one or both of them would begin to grow in their pants. It seemed at least one of them was always running around with an erection. The other lads had learned not to look, especially Niall. Niall didn't miss much, and he watched them flirt and play around, but when it came to things as blatant as erections, he shrunk away, almost as if he feared he'd "catch" it.

"It's . . . it's been so long, Louis, you know?" Harry looked a little troubled and downcast because of it. As if it made him anxious.

"I know Haz. And there's no pressure. It'll be just like it used to be, I promise." Louis was referring to making mutual decisions about lovemaking. Neither had ever pushed the other. But it had never been a problem, because they'd both wanted it almost constantly when they were alone. Now it seemed Harry was dealing with a little case of the jitters.

Honeymoon jitters. Louis smiled softly. No matter. They'd just hold each other and cuddle all night if that was what Harry wanted. Louis loved him too much to demand or whine about a lack of sexual activities. He could wait. He wanted Harry to be as frantic for it as he was himself.

Harry trusted Louis as much as he loved him, so he remained where he was for a beat, watching Louis' heaving chest telling him how much Louis still wanted him, making the blood rush hot in his head and groin. It ricocheted off Louis and onto him, and Harry gradually worked his body over Louis,' easing his chest down on Louis' chest, ferreting out the older lad's lips, and massaging them with his own, in his very own, patented Harry way.

Light and supple, then more serious, sensual, and finally nipping at Louis' bottom lip for entry. Louis welcomed Harry's tongue. Harry was the best kisser he'd ever had. He constantly changed things up, teasing and titillating, then coming on strong, then easing up again until Louis nearly lost it.

"C'mere, babe," crooned Louis, holding Harry warmly to his chest when the kiss was over, as if their bodies could be any closer.

"I'm so hungry for you, Lou." Harry sounded tortured.

"Same here. But you just take it easy; this has been a wild and crazy day. We both need to chill for a while. I don't wanna scare you or anything like that. And you do know that I love you no matter what."

He was discreetly letting Harry have a way out if he wanted it.

Harry nodded against Louis' chest. "I do. When I came onto you so strong in the pool, I wasn't trying to . . ."

"Haz, no need for explanation. I understand. I understand _you_ , and have all along. I don't want to be with you just for sex. The love tops everything."

Harry laughed. "That sounded funny."

"Okay, Harold. You prick," Louis said affectionately. Nothing needed to be explained, even though Harry had tried to anyway. Louis knew Harry's mind as well as his own.

They wrestled in a half-present way, because their minds were elsewhere. The feel of each others' skin intoxicated them like a potent drug, the warmth of a huff of air against their necks, fingers caressing, made this much more tender than your everyday wrestling. They giggled, hugged. They didn't even have to repress their giggles like the old days on the tour bus. It was pure freedom.

Louis' hand brushed against Harry's nipple, and he noted it was hardened. That was nothing new. On stage, you could often see Harry's nipples peaked under his shirt. Just a touch from Louis, or his hand on his waist would cause it. Louis loved Harry's body's natural response to him.

"This is just like the old days," murmured Harry. He was talking about back in 2010-2013, when they had few to no restrictions to adhere to. Actually, things were becoming difficult even back in late 2012, but they never thought it would come to this—where they had to act like they hardly even knew each other. If only they had known . . .

 _You can never go back._ Well, in this case, that saying had no bearing. They _could_ go back, and they were. Step by unhurried step.

Harry's sudden, unexpected nibbles on Louis' neck caused him startle, then to shiver and groan.

"You like it that much? You sound like you used to, two years ago." Harry's voice, muffled by Louis neck was raw sounding, the nibbles turning into sucking kisses. This sexy talk was making Louis tingle clear down to the end of his toes.

"God, yes. Styles, you make me hotter than I can tolerate. You better quit."

"Maybe I don't wanna."

"Then I'm not responsible for me actions."

"Now you're talkin.'"

Okay, so Harry had just crossed the line. Louis could take no more. The torture was actual physical pain. An ache that was eroding him, little by little. That, besides the ache in his heart, well, the combination pushed Louis right up to the edge. He wanted to plummet over, back into that extraordinary love and lust that was exclusive to the two of them.

"I wanna make love to you, Harry. It's been so fuckin' long, and I need to show my love to you. I want it to be like it used to." Louis hoped Harry wouldn't think he was being superficial, or worse, shallow. Harry knew how sexual Louis was, but he also knew Louis craved the sweet sound of Harry's vulnerability. And Louis also felt exposed when he was with Harry. He needed to have that unguarded feeling once again. It was the ultimate.

Back in the day, they had felt remarkable and rare. Untouchable. They could still be that way. If their essence had been captured well enough that it couldn't escape, they could relive it all. It was possible. And it was beginning to happen right now . . .

Louis' hand rubbed lightly over Harry's chest, and the feel caused Harry to emit an involuntary groan, just the way he'd used to do. Louis took this as a sign that Harry was ready to take a trip back in time. Louis rubbed Harry's nipple, rolled it between his fingers, and thought he'd never seen Harry so breathless.

Louis' tongue worked its way down to that very nipple, and at the first stroke of his tongue, Harry almost split in two. His back arched up like a cat's. "Your tongue . . . " murmured Harry. Louis licked for a while, and then he sucked. Time disappeared, and Harry was exactly the way he was the last time they'd made love. Purring like a kitten, begging in his own adorable way. But not silently. Little whines kept coming.

Louis continued for a while, until he knew Harry was as needy as he'd ever been with Louis. That was when Louis moved to his other nipple. Harry had nice-sized nipples, due in part, probably, to all the stimulation Louis had showered on them in the past. He'd stretched them over time with his inquisitive tongue and suckling mouth. And he liked to believe he'd made them as sensitive as they were.

Louis knew electrical jolts were knifing down to Harry's cock. He'd felt it plenty of times himself, since he, too, had greatly enjoyed Harry's mouth on his own nipples. Louis' fingers kneaded Harry's belly as they worked their way down, down. Louis' mouth followed, and when Harry's felt a ghost of Louis' breath on his cock, he cried out.

"Lou! Me Lou-Boo!"

Louis luxuriated in the special feeling when Harry used one of his nicknames. It gave him power, made him want to take over and give Harry more pleasure than he'd ever dreamed he'd get in a lifetime. Next, Louis, licked Harry's belly in quick, elusive flicks of his tongue. By now, Harry's hips were uncontrollably rising, even though he was trying not to. Louis now moved to nibble the tender insides of Harry's thighs.

"Don't hold back, Haz," and that was the inspiration Harry needed. His hips jerked upward when Louis' mouth came near, and as it happened, popped his cock right into Louis' waiting, eager mouth.

Louis was certainly greedy—no one would have argued with that. He sucked strongly, unbearable desire pouring over him with a desperation he didn't know he possessed. He wasn't going to play around, because he knew Harry's body language, and it was telling him to indulge. The two years melted away in an instant, and Louis was taking almost all of Harry's gigantic cock down his throat as if it had been yesterday.

How could he forget? He hadn't thought he would. No way possible. It was as if no time had passed at all. The throbbing of this gorgeous rod could be felt right down to Louis' bones. Fuck, it tasted just the same, responded just the same, twitched and jerked just the same. And the best part was Louis knew Harry's come would taste the same, and his patience was wearing thin. He yearned for it . . .


	4. Chapter 4

Harry's breaths came faster, more labored. He was going to blow soon . .. very soon.

"Louis! I'm so damn close!"

 _If Louis moved just the slightest bit more . . . he was done._

Louis just ignored him, the way he always had. The lad was hopelessly hard headed. Louis loved sucking Harry, so he did nothing but suck harder, exploring the slit at the top of the head, pressing the crown between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, his lips staying very busy as they quivered against Harry's overly sensitive flesh. His tongue so slick . . .

Holding back was not even an option anymore. And Harry was too far gone to even care.

Harry grunted, "Uhhhhhh!" the sound tortured and strangled, his juices shooting from him in hot sheets of what Louis had been waiting for, and so wantonly desired. Harry's movements were completely erratic, hips rolling like waves as Louis eagerly swallowed his seed. It made Harry feel invincible, dizzy and high as a kite.

Wave after wave of his orgasm rolled over Harry, on and on he came, shock after shock at the intensity of it all. Harry, normally a quiet guy except when making love to Louis, unleashed the very welcome, oh-so-sweetly-tormented moans Louis loved to bask in, Harry's hands gripping Louis' hair, nearly out of his mind.

As it had always been in the past, Louis kissed, licked and snuggled Harry's cock for a time afterward, until his handsome friend was clearly and completely spent. Then he kissed his way back up Harry's belly and chest and nestled into him. Harry kissed him senseless until Louis finally drew back, emerging from his hazy cloud of lust.

Then he felt it. Harry was looking at him. He just knew it. He could feel it acutely. Those green eyes that could be as dark in hue as Oklahoma meadow grass and as light as the mist from the sea. Louis tingled all over, his body taut—almost as taut as his straining erection. He looked right back into Harry's glassy green gaze. Desire was still riding Harry hard—Louis could see that.

"Superman of mine," Harry murmured with much affection.

Not more than a moment passed.

"Oh God, Louis. Don't make me wait anymore," Harry was an avid pleaser, and he yanked the comforter down in his impatience. Louis had always marveled at the thought that Harry was so ravenous for him. Just as ravenous as Louis was for him. Harry was licking his lips softly in anticipation, anxious to touch and taste Louis. Harry seemed to enjoy pleasuring Louis every bit as much as he enjoyed _being_ pleasured by Louis, if not even more.

The moment Harry mouthed at him with so much love and keen thirstiness, Louis failed to breathe—until he realized he couldn't live without air, but just as much, he couldn't live without Harry. He spread his legs farther apart, welcoming the best, most devoted lover he'd ever had. His baby.

Louis hands glided through Harry's fragrant hair, the strands soft like satin-like curly ribbons. Harry's mouth brought back everything they'd had—the memories of secret, rapturous indulgence. His lips glided along Louis' length with an ardent passion that nothing else could match. The both of them had been so frantic to experience the idolization again of each other's bodies. The fondness was overlapping and making them both giddy.

The pull of Harry's mouth, ah, Heaven. Harry knew all his weak spots, just how to push his love buttons. Taking Louis all the way to the base, Harry once again turned into the beast he used to be in the bedroom with Louis. All the things that had rocked Louis' world were emerging again. Memories Louis had purposely jumbled together and shoved to the back of his mind, as if wadding a piece of paper, if only for his own sanity, were becoming crystal clear and well defined once again. He'd been terrified to dare to let detail in because the memories were too sweet and clinging. They couldn't easily be washed off, and they stained his soul beyond repair.

Only Harry could fix the damage, and he could do it without banishing the memories. Only Harry could redeem him, make him whole again. They were recovering and reclaiming their love. Giving it life again. Louis' heart lurched, and Harry held it in his hands. Louis entrusted it to no one else.

The wet sucking sounds of Harry's mouth seemed to echo in the room, bouncing off the walls and impaling Louis and suffusing his very being. Harry threw everything he was into lovemaking with Louis. He was ambushed by the older lad's charms, with no hope of escaping. The only escape he wanted was _with_ Louis, not _from_ him.

Even when Louis' quirks had sometimes made him want to grumble in quiet protest, Harry had still admired him, adored him. Looked up to him, always. Even with Lou's sassiness, his temper, his cheekiness, his impatience, his overly free spirited ways. Everything that simply . . . made him Louis, was what had Harry in a vice grip that hadn't loosened one bit in five years.

Louis was older, more mature now. But he was still Louis, and would always be the brightest, shiniest, most luminous spot in Harry's life.

Harry's tongue struck like a snake, curling and whipping around the head of Louis' cock, lapping up his pre-come and smacking his lips in satisfaction. Louis had taught him to be like this—questing, exploring, unashamed to indulge.

Harry moaned with uninhibited abandon as he slipped lower and licked Louis' balls. Louis spread his legs even farther apart, a low, keening whine rising in his throat. Harry sucked each ball tenderly, rolling it around on his tongue, basking in Louis' sounds of unshadowed delight.

His tongue following the smooth silk of Louis' masculine member, Harry ended at the tip again, nibbling just enough for Louis to beg him never to stop or pause. The slight scrape of Harry's teeth had always driven him wild. The friction began to build as Harry followed the contours of Louis' flawless cock, his mouth forming a tight seal, his tongue staying busy all the while. As he did this, Harry fondled his own cock, which was already more than three quarters of the way hard again.

Louis's low sounds rose in pitch until his body began to jerk, then stiffen. His hands buried in Harry's curls, he whimpered, his cock suddenly becoming even more rock hard, swelling tightly in Harry's mouth. Harry sucked vigorously now, as if all his sustenance for life was stored in Louis' cock.

"Oh, oh fuck, Harry!"

An erratic rhythm caused Louis' hips to buck wildly and randomly now. Harry could hardly keep his mouth on him. He faltered, but regained his equilibrium in order to catch up with his little bronco of a boyfriend.

Louis raked in a staggered breath and yelped—loud and agonizing enough for the entire hotel to hear. He cradled Harry's head against him with a desperation Harry remembered well.

By God, Harry had him swallowed, and his throat was milking him dry. The last humps against Harry's mouth brought a sweet, dreamy weariness to Louis. There was silence as Harry brought Louis down slowly and gradually, with languid caresses from his skilled mouth and soft voice, which always served to soothe.

"You're beautiful," Harry whispered.

Louis' voice, weak with exhausted passion, remarked, "I could go to sleep listening to your voice."

"That boring, am I?"

"No, quite the contrary, in fact. Well done, mate. You've gratified me so that I can hardly speak. Good times," Louis smiled faintly. He really was tired. The concerts always took loads of energy, and afterward they'd made their getaway, and now their intense love making had drained the last of his vitality. Had it all been a magnificent dream?

Harry stayed where he was for quite a while, giving Louis random sucks here and there, sometimes lingering, and getting Louis hard again.

Finally, as they steadied their breaths, they wrapped their bodies around each other, spread the comforter over themselves, and since it was very late, they gave in to sleep.

In the first morning light, Louis was afraid to open his eyes. If it _had_ all been a dream, he didn't want to know about it. He wouldn't be able to face the day, or next week, next month, or even contemplate anything after that.

But no . . . Harry was there, and absurdly handsome. And he watched his curly lover sleep. Louis never got used to it. Staring at his angelic face. It was a perfect baby face, the curly tendrils framing it and the rest of his hair cascading over the pillow, swirls drifting everywhere. A living doll. Like an exquisite painting.

Louis had yet to recover from waking, and to fully experience Harry's perfect, porcelain face so close to him, in bed; that beautiful innocence—it was hard to come to terms with. And when Harry's eyes opened, Louis wasn't prepared. A wave of heat rolled over his skin. He wasn't braced for the electric charge that crackled between them.

Dear God, but Louis' eyelashes were long, those prominent cheekbones, tan skin, a face and body that were model-worthy. He was pure enchantment for anyone who laid eyes on him—and Harry wished he could be the _only_ one with that priviledge.

Sunshine . . . my sunshine," whispered Harry. Another of his favorite nicknames for Louis. Then he managed to wreck Louis with his famous smile.

"Shit, Harry. When you smile like that, me insides turn to pudding."

Harry's eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. Happy laughter that leaned a little on the sarcastic side—he'd learned that from Louis. Bad influence, courtesy of bad boy Louis.

"Wassa matter Tommo? You mean I get to you like you get to me? Not possible." Harry looked a little too convinced by his own statement, and Louis felt a twinge in his heart.

"Yes, possible. Every time I touch you, or you touch me, I feel as if I'm stepping into a minefield."

A smile flooded Harry's face once again, and Louis felt himself becoming unraveled, _again._

 _This had to stop. Harry was going to kill him with sweetness._

"Not altogether romantic, that."

"Maybe not, but you're _hazardous,_ Harry. Time is it?"

Harry sat up, his hair tumbling down gracefully around his shoulders, squinting at his watch.

"Seven, US time."

"Seven A.M. or P.M.?" Louis's question was serious. Since it stayed light out so late in Sweden, he wasn't sure if they'd slept all day, and into the next night, or if they'd only slept a couple of hours. They'd been up very late last night, and both had been exhausted, so he was pretty sure it had been more than a handful of hours.

"A.M. What's the difference between the two countries?"

"Nine hours. Sweden is nine hours ahead. That means it's already four P.M. here!"

"Wow! The concert ended at ten, and we were up a long time, but I have no idea how late."

"Neither do I, and I'm too sleepy to even try to figure it out, but I suspect we should be caught up!"

The shyness shouldn't have lingered, but it did. A sweet, soft kind of shyness. They smiled bashfully as they got out of bed, although both wanted to stay there, next to each other.

"I'll call room service for breakfast," Louis muttered, trying to avert his eyes from Harry's huge morning erection.

"But it's way past breakfast time here!" protested Harry.

"Ah, hell, Haz. They know we're not from here."

"Yeah, and The UK is eight hours ahead of the US,, and we have a rather noticeable British accent, so really, they'll expect us to be more or less on their schedule."

"Harry, you've got me completely confused now. All I know is I want breakfast."

As Louis was speaking on the phone beside the bed, Harry whispered, "Early bird gets the worm?" and suddenly, all shyness vanished. Louis was wracked with laughter. So much so that Harry had to take the phone and continue the conversation. Louis was bent over, shoulders quaking, laughing so hard that he wasn't making a sound.

Having no idea what Louis wanted for breakfast, Harry told the man on the other end of the phone that he was American and didn't know what to order. The man was silent for a moment, obviously mulling over the accent, flummoxed, but recovered and recommended various berries on rye bread, with sides of cheese and ham, a common breakfast in Sweden. He also suggested Kanelbullar, Sweden's famous cinnamon rolls. Harry wasn't able to keep him on the line long enough to order coffee, but once he got off the phone, Louis assured him that just about everyone in Sweden drank coffee, so it would be included as a matter of course.

"They sure are abrupt here," frowned Harry as he hung up the phone.

"Yeah, I read that they tend to be stuck up and passive-aggressive, and rarely initiate conversations, even with each other, let alone foreigners."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I'd wanna live here."

"Nor me, after what I read. But we won't be here that long anyway."

"We don't need anyone else anyway. We have each other. I'm looking forward to that."

Both guys slipped on their by now mostly dry boxer briefs, and Louis opened the sliding glass door to the balcony.

"Clean air," he remarked, breathing deeply.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's one good thing about Sweden," Harry had slipped up behind Louis, and wrapped his arms around the older lad's waist. Louis leaned back slightly, relishing Harry's affection.

"That and the relaxed attitude toward nudity," teased Louis.

It was such an ingrained habit to always be looking around to see who was watching, or where cameras might be, as had happened in the months before they were banned from just about everything. It was second nature, and Louis felt like he was committing some hideous crime by allowing Harry to hold him like this. Harry tightened his grip as if in answer to Louis' thoughts.

"Does that mean we can sunbathe on the balcony nude?" asked Harry. Louis nodded.

"Yeah, it does. It's perfectly acceptable here. There's lots of nude beaches too. They have a relaxed attitude about sex as well. . . "

Harry perked up, very interested in that tidbit. "Really?"

"Yeah. Swedes are more comfortable with their bodies and sexuality than Americans or Brits."

Harry's wrinked brow indicated he was pondering this.

The knock at the door told them breakfast had arrived. Luckily, it was someone other than the guy that had appeared with the cheesecake last night. A shy twenties-something girl wheeled in the cart, then disappeared the second after Louis handed her a tip.

Both realizing at the same time that they were still in their boxer briefs, they giggled.

Louis dove right into the cinnamon rolls. "Wow! They're as good as I heard! Taste!" he offered a sticky chunk out to Harry. Harry gobbled it up, licking and sucking the stickiness off Louis' fingers, and causing Louis' lower region to spasm.

"Wanna get those extra clothes today?" asked Louis when they had finished their breakfast and sat enjoying their coffee on the balcony.

"Sure. Where?"

"I saw a place real close to here, but buses and trains take you everywhere. You don't really even need a car."

They found out in short order that it was indeed true that the Swedish people didn't start conversations. Everyone more or less ignored them on the bus, which was fine with them. They were too engrossed with each other to care one whit.

The houses they passed were predominantly red with white trim, although a few were different colors. Most of the houses were wood, but some were brick. Everywhere they saw people wearing all sorts of fashions. Everything from extremely casual to very dressed up, and also some bizarre get-ups.

"Yep, Harry, you fit in here just fine," Louis wanted to kiss Harry's lips, but he wasn't sure how the Swedes would view homosexuality, and he didn't want a fist down his throat, so he abstained.

"We shouldn't stay out very long today, should we?" asked Harry. "First day after we split and all."

"No, we shouldn't. Let's just get the clothes and head on back to the hotel. Until one of the lads calls, we don't know the score. I don't think they'd send anyone after us, but I don't wanna take any chances."

Harry avidly nodded his agreement. They were dressed in their concert clothes, of course, and Harry kept his hat he'd luckily worn for a portion of the concert low in front of his face. Louis couldn't disguise himself at all because he hadn't brought a hat along. Harry's face would be the most likely to be recognized anyway, on the off chance someone was actively looking for them in the area.

"Should we rent a car?" Louis was wondering.

"Doesn't look necessary, so far. Besides, I kind of like taking the bus, or walking everywhere we need to go, as long as I'm with you. It's relaxing and romantic, yeah?"

Louis wasn't going to argue with that. They picked up a couple changes of clothes, some socks, and a hat for Louis. Harry got a plain brown shirt that wouldn't pop out in a crowd and a gray and white lightweight sweater. Louis also got a lightweight sweater, his being turquoise, and a royal blue tank top, as he didn't get cold easily. They decided to forgo the underwear, for obvious reasons. Less to take off. Picking up some hair products, toothbrushes and toothpaste, they finished their shopping, hoping they hadn't missed anything essential.

They arrived back at the hotel after grabbing a lunch of sloppy joe meatballs and bringing some back with them as well. Bananas for Harry, of course, and Louis got some chewy candy sweets and chocolates. On their way back, they saw a restaurant they planned to get some takeaway from tonight. Harry had discovered a microwave oven also in their room, so they were pretty set for the next two days.

As soon as Harry removed his shirt, intending to catch some sun on the balcony, Louis' gaze went straight to his chest. Louis walked up and rubbed said chest, jolting Harry into immobility. Louis' fingers wandered over to a nipple, smiling at its rigidity.

"Yeah, me nipples have been hard most of the time we were out," admitted Harry.

"I noticed. Was turnin' me on somethin' fierce. Looks like you need to be sucked—in more places than one."

Harry blushed almost purple at this remark.

"Did you notice how many people here have tattoos?" asked Louis.

"Yeah, I did. Lots more than in the US. Well, I'm goin' out to the balcony to get some sun before dinner, and you're goin' with me," stated Harry, grabbing two beers from the refrigerator with one hand and dragging Louis along with the other.

As soon as Harry was stretched out on the chaise lounge, he began undoing his belt buckle and sliding his pants down his legs.

"Hey, what're ya doin,' mate?" Louis' voice held a hint of alarm.

"You told me it was no big deal to sunbathe in the nude, so that's just what I'm doin.'"

Louis knew his lover was serious, too. Harry loved to get naked, but he was also getting the feeling that Harry wanted him to join him.

"Let me look at that tan little body of yours," Harry pulled up a second chaise lounge and positioned it right next to his as he continued to pull his pants further down, and then he began peeling his boxer briefs down too.

Louis gulped. He might be a bit of a wild lad, but quiet, soft spoken Harry was the nudist, and that thought was driving Louis wild with lust. It didn't take much convincing from Harry to get Louis to strip as well. An untamed, feral kind of desire overtook Louis as his eyes took in all the people on the street who had only to look up to see them. Having never experienced what it was like to be naked in public before, he was about to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

Out on the balcony, Harry was casually lounging, soaking up the sun. Naked. Louis was also naked, but with a pronounced difference. Harry was completely at ease, as he always was when naked; Louis was bug eyed, jumpy and nervous as all hell.

When Harry reached over to smooth his thigh with his palm, Louis startled and jolted, looking around as if law enforcement would be on him in a second. At all costs, he dared not look down into the street. His skin prickled all over. The tension was overtaking him.

"I'm losin' my shit," he whined.

"Boo, I'm nearest the edge of the balcony, man. I doubt anyone can see you except maybe, like, a glimpse of your head or legs. They can see most, or maybe all, of me. I'm not worried."

Gradually, when he saw that the world didn't stop, but carried on as usual, Louis started to relax, even though he was butt naked on a balcony.

"It's not a good idea to touch me right now." Louis brushed Harry's comforting hand off his thigh.

"Why not?"

"Isn't that pretty obvious?"

Harry glanced over, seeing how Louis' cock was inflating, and chuckled. "Same ole' Lou. Amorous at a moment's notice."

"Around _you_ ," Louis reminded him rather sternly. "No one else does it for me like you do." Harry smiled with satisfaction. That was exactly what he'd wanted most to hear. "I admire you, you know?"

"How?"

"The way you took it upon yourself to make that move toward me onstage with the balloons."

"I was desperate, Haz."

"It took guts."

"I love the way you accepted me offer to run away, escape, if you will." Louis was warming up both inside and out. The sun warmed him outside, Harry warmed him inside.

"Loved it! I felt like my heart was gonna burst. I was afraid of consequences, but not nearly scared enough not to take you up on it. I'd be a fool not to."

Louis smiled. "We outwitted the bottom feeders," he sneered. "Mother fuckers," Louis' anger surfaced at the thought of management and their attempted control.

"Yeah," Harry displayed a dreamy look. "You and I, we're unconquerable."

"You got that."

Harry's phone rang just then. Glancing at the display, he saw it was Liam.

"Liam," he informed Louis before he answered.

"Talk to me," he said into the phone, a sly smile on his face.

"Nice greeting," came Liam's dry answer. "Listen, you guys don't need to worry. Just wanted you to know so you can chill. They're cool with it. Not happy, but . . . accepting enough."

"What was said?" asked Harry.

"Not much . . . to me, anyway. I'm sure there was plenty said amongst them though. There's nothing they can really do, anyway. I told 'em you'd be back by the time the plane leaves. I think they're more afraid of word getting out that you two are missing _together_ than the fact that you left."

After he'd hung up, Harry turned to Louis. "We're free and clear." Louis already knew, as Harry had had the phone on speaker. They hugged over the edges of their chaise lounges.

"We deserve this," added Harry.

"Damn right we do!"

A couple of hours later they decided to go get the takeaway at the restaurant nearby. Walking down the sidewalk, Harry began skipping like he sometimes did onstage, and Louis knew he was happy—truly happy for perhaps the first time in two years. And it was because of him. At least he _hoped_ that was the reason. But he knew Harry well, and the old familiar smile was back on Harry's face, a sure sign. There wasn't anything fake about it.

"We're free!" Harry cried, looking back over his shoulder at Louis, flashing another of his world-famous playful smiles. And yes, it was _just for Louis._

Maybe people didn't strike up conversation here in Sweden, but they sure could gawk. When Harry made it to the street corner quite a way ahead of Louis because he'd been skipping, several people had their eyes on him. Even under the floppy hat, with his hair tucked underneath . . . well, you couldn't really hide exceedingly handsome. It was impossible to cover up his beauty. The dimples only sealed the deal. Whether you recognized him or not didn't play a part. Louis was fairly sure a few hearts had stopped.

With his right hand in the front pocket of his jeans, as he so often did when at leisure, Harry looked so good that Louis wanted to tackle him, then and there. Harry had no idea how sexy he looked, and it frightened Louis. As he waited for the light to turn green, and Louis was finally within ten feet of him, there were now about a dozen or so people staring at Harry. Harry was grinning back at them, looking appallingly naïve.

Louis sauntered up, his nose in the air, pulling a snotty look as only Louis could do. He bristled, and his look said, _"Stay away from me man!"_ The gawkers withdrew a bit from his menacing gaze, but continued to stare.

Reaching the other side of the street, Louis said to Harry, "I'm gettin' jelly, Harry. What're you on to?"

"Jelly of what? Not onto anything. Jus' happy."

Okay, so Harry was clueless. Louis knew Harry was used to people staring at him in the US, as the whole band was, but Harry was forgetting that most of these people here didn't know who he was because of the disguise, and were appreciating his stunning good looks a little too much. And that could get Harry in trouble really fast—even kidnapped. Harry was entirely too pretty to be acting so fancy free and careless. He was a wet dream for a lonely gay man. Louis would have to give him a talking-to when they got back to the hotel.

At the restaurant, it was more of the same thing, with Harry causing a bit of a commotion, but Louis' haughty, tough demeanor made people reconsider ogling Harry. Louis might not be huge, but with his sassy, swinging swagger, narrow-eyed glare and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth he looked dangerous, like a roughneck you wouldn't want to mess with.

He didn't deserve Harry, thought Louis as they headed back with their dinner. Harry was too perfect for a sarcastic, sometimes- ruffian like himself. But Harry wanted him, and that made Louis' instincts kick in. He wouldn't hurt anyone unless they came after Harry, but he sure could threaten. He still could hardly believe Harry would look at him twice—now or when they first met.

They had also stopped and nabbed some hot chocolate—the kind Swedish people had made famous. The aroma was so appealing, they could almost taste it.

Dinner went into the refrigerator, and they decided to have their hot chocolate out on the balcony. Louis was rapidly becoming thirsty for Harry again, although, truth be told, it never really went away.

His eyes followed Harry's every move. When Harry almost tripped and spilled the chocolate, Louis felt the love swell in his chest. Harry was certainly clumsy, but there was an odd grace in it, contradictory as that seemed. The real truth likely was, Louis was blind to any fault in Harry.

"You gotta be more careful in public, Curly. When you were at the stop light, I got a little antsy. You're too gorgeous. Hard to walk away from."

Harry made a dismissive noise. He _still_ didn't know how he affected other people, marveled Louis.

"I liked how you took over though," acknowledged Harry. "You're irresistible when you get all worked up and possessive. It's hard to control meself around you."

Harry's words were making Louis seriously hot. His desire meter was pegged.

"Well, be more careful. You're an easy target. You're too trusting, and you aren't as strong as I am." It was true. Harry didn't play sports like Louis did, or run track like Louis did, and Louis knew he'd be reluctant to hurt anyone, even in defense.

"I hear there's a terrific botanical garden somewhere here in Gothenburg," Louis said, trying to ease the pent up sexual tension that was beginning to cloak them again.

"I don't know if we'll have time. Day after tomorrow we'll be leaving, and I want plenty of time alone with you until then." Harry's candid statement made Louis squirm with anticipation, and something in his heart bloomed. He'd never been so happy to hear something come out of Harry's mouth.

"Agreed! And before I forget, the rainbow flag at the concert—with the 'always in my heart' tweet on it told me a lot. The crowd loved it, and so did I. I couldn't tell you then, of course."

"Yeah, did ya see how I embraced it? I knew the printing was there, and the fans never miss a thing, and I wasn't gonna try to hide it."

"Yeah, I loved that the most of all. You ran so . . . lighthearted with it. So natural, unashamed. And I love you for that, Harry Styles."

"It _is_ natural, Lou. Between you and me. Always has been. And at the stop light today . . . " Harry was thoughtful. "I felt so desirable. Not to the people, but you. I loved how you were so protective."

"Can't help it, Haz. It's second nature where you're concerned."

Louis mused about it idly. Again, he wondered how he'd managed to be blessed enough to be here, alone with Harry. Harry was so kind-hearted, and he, Louis, could be an asshole at times. He could admit that to himself. Harry found the good in everyone, and Louis just didn't have that kind of patience, let alone tolerance. But the beautiful thing about them was that they appreciated their differences. _Embraced_ them, as Harry would say.

The hot chocolate kiss they shared on the balcony became almost fierce when Louis remembered the appreciative looks on people's faces when they had seen Harry. It excited him. Fuck them, because he'd come away with the prize.

Harry was completely soft under Louis' lips, compliant and gleaned the pleasure as Louis worshipped his mouth with his own. Louis lips were demanding, passionate, yet coaxing, drawing the escalating desire eagerly from Harry.

After ten solid minutes of making love to Harry's mouth, Louis sat back in his lounge, trying to appear cool, although his chest heaved, his pants were incredibly tight and his eyelids were heavy. He looked over to see Harry's lips were red and pouty, and his breathing was just as heavy as Louis' own.

"Fancy that, do you?" he asked Harry, his voice husky, laced with that little bit of smoker's rasp around the edges.

"Uh . . . yeah," Harry was desperately grasping onto his last thread of control. "Careful, I might tear your clothes off and . . . you know . . . right here on the balcony," he mock warned Louis.

"What? What do you want to do? Say it! Not just 'you know.'" Louis was being confrontational, wanting to hear the actual words from Harry's mouth. "What do you wanna do?" he prompted yet again, his arousal increasing by leaps and bounds.

"Um . . . it's been a long time, Lou. I need time to get back in the swing of things." Louis was a demanding little cuss, but Harry loved it.

"But say it. I wanna hear it," Louis was nothing if not incessant, and there was no avoiding him.

Harry cleared his throat, summoning up the spunk to articulate it. "Suck you . . . suck you off," Harry's words were nearly a whisper.

Louis couldn't check his gasp. It took a moment to soak in. He felt the terrific spasm below his waist. He looped his arms around Harry's neck. "We're getting it back," he said, his hands on the back of Harry's head, pulling him close, nose to nose. "Closer to how we used to be. It didn't take us long, did it?"

Harry's heart burned and ached for this Donny lad. "No . . . we're jumping right back into it. But . . . is that wise?" Harry knew his words might set Louis off, but they had to be said. There were very real, deep feelings at stake here. "All the hurt we've endured—are we only making it worse for when we return, and have to go back to the same way of life?"

"Maybe we don't—have to get back to the same way of life."

Harry drew back a few inches, to examine Louis' eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Harry, we can still 'disappear,' or, at the least, when we go back, we can insist that we be allowed to come out."

Now it was Harry's turn to be stunned. "Can we _really_ do that?" He still had trouble wrapping his head around it.

"I don't see why not. There's nothing in the contract that says we have to be heterosexual, or not be a couple, yeah?"

"Um, not that I remember. And I'd remember _that,"_ Harry had an almost haunted look on his face.

"But . . ."

"Let's not discuss it now. Let's wait until later for that," Louis said wisely. "Just think on it. Think on both options, and I will too. Maybe before we drift off to sleep or something, but for right now, let's grab all the love and happiness we can get, yeah?"

Harry, transfixed by Louis' clear, bright blue eyes, could only nod his assent.

Harry's mind drifted back to earlier days when Louis had been ready to forcefully claim him. He didn't know why, but Louis' territorial attitude when it came to him was very alluring.

"Remember the time you and Liam were doing the water fight thing onstage, and Liam slipped in the water, accidentally taking me down with him? You blew your stack, man."

"He was on top of you, Haz!"

"Wasn't his fault. He was trying to get up. He wasn't makin' a move on me. You came storming over, all puffed up, yelling at Liam to back the fuck off. And you didn't even care that it was in front of tens of thousands of people."

"I didn't like it at all, and all I saw was red," Louis remembered it so clearly in his mind—his man underneath Liam.

Harry's thoughts went back in time. "Not to mention the time you and I had a spat about something stupid, and I asked a guy if he was single, and you punched him in the balls. Poor guy. Should have been _me_ you punched in the balls! Then another time you took your shoe off and hit a guy on top of the head with it because you thought he was flirting with me."

"I tried not to be so dominating and controlling, if you will, but something about you makes me barmy." Louis hoped Harry wasn't becoming turned off by these memories.

Little did he know that Harry quite enjoyed it, and was thinking about it with fondness. A few minutes of silence nudged Louis to change the subject to something more appealing.

"Well, I can remember something that's a lot more pleasant. You whispered something naughty in me ear onstage. Real suggestive. I wasn't quite certain of what you'd said because it was so unexpected and shocking, and the noise of the music and the fans and such. A little later, you walked by, made direct eye contact and said, 'You heard me,' That was one of the most arousing moments onstage ever for me."

Harry smiled, big and dimpled. "Yeah, the element of surprise, you know?"

"Oh, do I ever know. It was sick. Thought I was gonna erupt—in a good way. You got me another time too. When you demanded I look at you," Louis remembered the quiet command in Harry's voice, and the memory of how it had turned his legs to rubber.

"I wanted your attention right then. How dare you walk past me onstage without looking at me?" Harry was smiling, recalling it with pleasure. How had they possibly gone without that intense eye contact for two years?

"It was a thing. A thing between you and I," Harry's look was wistful.

"It's a thing again," Louis confirmed with conviction. "It's back."

""Yeah, like, we have to lay down the law with management, man."

"We will. _Something_ has to be done. I'll call me lawyer right now. It's, what? Nine hours earlier in California. It's first thing in the mornin' there. Perfect." Louis picked up his cell phone.

Harry had butterflies in his stomach, and he wandered back into the hotel room, only catching snippets of the conversation. Being left alone on the balcony, Louis quickly put his pants back on.

"Yes sir, yeah. Okay. That's all I need for now," Louis ended the call after a good fifteen or twenty minutes. Harry had only heard Louis mention the word "contract" and a few other words, but he preferred Louis to tell him, and not hear it from some anonymous voice on the other end of the international call.

"Haz!" Louis knew Harry was nervous, so he went inside and sat down on the couch, pulling Harry by the wrist to sit down beside him.

"It's good news, don't worry. I told him I was on holiday and didn't have the contract on me, but wanted to know if there was anything in it referring to how you and I interact on stage or otherwise. He took a few minutes to look over his copy, and said that he could find nothing that pertained to how we interact or communicate with each other. Said he'd call me back if he found anything, but he seriously doubts he will."

Harry smiled. "So, that's good. Is that all?"

"Well, no . . . actually it's not. I asked him about a couple members of the band leaving permanently, theoretically of course, 'disappearing' if you will, and the legal ramifications of that. He advised me of the difficulties of just walking away and not returning.

It's not as easy as it sounds. You can't tell _anyone,_ not even your family or best friend, you have to deal solely in cash, taken out in smaller amounts over several months before you go, so as not to raise suspicion. Changing your name, your birthdate, and a lot of other stuff. One of the biggest though, is the fact that we wouldn't be able to fly anywhere again. We'd have to get rid of all our credit cards and what not. Not only is it almost impossible to fly without identification, but changing your identity affects you in a massive way for the rest of your life. And us being famous just complicates it more."

Harry listened intently, with a pensive expression. "I guess that means we have to go back . . . " He couldn't bring himself to say anything else, his vocal chords freezing up.

"Yeah. It's serious, and I don't think we'd be truly happy having to be different people than who we are. He even mentioned that a person has to go alone to be sure of not being found. Two people makes you twice as easy to find. Lots of other shit too. Way too fuckin' depressing. But we already kinda agreed we couldn't just abandon Liam and Niall anyway, right?" Louis peered at Harry expectantly, hoping he would understand.

"Yeah, Liam and Niall are our bros, and they'd never do something like that to us. And even besides everything you said, fans would all be looking for us too," Harry said sadly, realizing the scope of the situation. Louis nodded.

"Yeah, it's a nice dream, but it just wouldn't work in the long run."

"But can we call management and tell 'em we'll come back, but on our terms as far as how we interact?"

"I don't see why not. We can try, at least. If my attorney doesn't call me back, we'll know there's nothing in the contract we signed, and even though management won't be the least bit happy, there won't be anything they can do to stop us from coming out. And let's face it—we're making them way too much money for them to wash their hands of us. If worse did come to worst, Niall and Liam could start solo careers, and so could we, if it came to that. Either that, or retire at our young age. We don't _have_ to work anymore, anyway."

"As long as I'm with you, Lou, 1D or not, we'll be alright."

A little later, drained from the intensity of their discussion, they ate dinner. Harry kept poking at Louis in his usual teasing way, which was really a lot more sensual than badgering. Lots of tentative touching was involved, on the cheek, the hair, the neck, making Louis flush with desire.

"Payback is a bitch, Carlito," warned Louis.

"How many years has it been since you called me that?" Harry was astonished at Lou's excellent memory. It had probably been four years.

"And I'm lookin' forward to it," Harry grinned wickedly. "The payback, that is."

"I remember _everything_ that has anything to do with you. I'm so hopelessly in love with you." The rawness of Louis' words, the bluntly spoken honesty sucked all the air out of Harry's lungs.

Harry's deep baritone growl echoed in Louis's ears as Harry nuzzled his neck. It was going to be a sensational night . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Tranquility would have prevailed had it not been overshadowed by the electric buzz of need that had surrounded them. It was like a permanent high, only with no drugs involved. It was the best kind of high; a natural high. Stoned on each other, that adrenaline fueled, slithering snake feeling in the pit of your stomach. Energizing, yet heavy and aching with desire. The way you can't quite catch your breath, the way you watch the other person in dumbfounded, staggered fascination, because you can't take your eyes off them.

They'd had a very long sleep yesterday, so staying up all night was a promising possibility. Their passion for each other was prominent and pressing. Louis was happy for the night inching in upon them, light dimming steadily into seductive darkness. Truthfully, Louis needed no seducing at all. The dark quietness of night with Harry's presence was more than enough. His hormones coupled with his love for Harry meshed into something that glittered, just like Harry's green eyes, and made him shiver.

As soon as Harry had sat down on the couch, Louis immediately plopped down in his lap, just as natural as if two years had never passed. And he still fit perfectly too, his butt nestled snugly in Harry's crotch, making Harry take a trip down memory lane with such a sweet yearning for the wistful days they'd once had.

"Baby . . ." Louis murmured it softly. It was a luxury to be able to use that endearment again.

"Remember when I once made a mistake in an interview?" Louis was remembering when Harry had messed up a joke he was trying to tell, and Louis had said, "It's alright, baby. You tried."

Liam, Niall and Zayn had all frozen as if a switch had been thrown, and stared at him wordlessly. It had been so second nature for Louis to call Harry his baby in private that it had just slipped out. Harry had turned tomato red.

Reading his mind, as he used to do all the time, Harry responded. "Calling me baby? Yeah, I remember. At first, it didn't register with me either, and then I thought, _oh shit!"_ Harry laughed at the mortifying (at the time) memory. Now he remembered it with nothing but fondness.

"I can say it now," Louis seemed to relish it, making Harry hug him tight against his chest.

"Yes you can. All you want." Harry's voice had turned silky and growly like it had during the X-Factor days, during stolen moments, only now that he was older his voice was much lower in pitch. That just served to make Louis want him even more.

"Larry Stylinson. Preach it," cooed Louis. He rearranged his ample butt on Harry's lap. He had Harry panting in seconds.

"You're wicked, Lou Bear. Wickedly sexy. You don't need to do or say anything though. All that is necessary is for me to look at you, and I've lost the battle. A battle I love losing."

"I don't get it. I'm abrasive and harsh. You're tender, sensitive, soft. _What do we see in each other?"_

"Lou, I see beyond your brashness and sarcasm. Not everyone else can though. Sometimes you scare people off, like today . . . "

"That was useful, Harry. It served a purpose. But in everyday life, I don't mean to be blunt and unforgiving. I just come off that way for some reason."

"Self- preservation. I've got your number, Lou. I think you're shielding yourself from the world. You're sweet and soft when we're alone. You show you care in a lot of other ways too. Charity, for instance. Your family for another. Kids and animals, and I could go on . . ."

"But what attracted you to me to begin with?" It still bewildered Louis.

"I saw beneath that veneer, that façade you put out there. It's like something Dr. Phil would say, 'Get them before they get you.' Your defenses were and are always up."

"Yeah, maybe I'm more sensitive than I thought . . .inside.. And I haven't given this side of me to anyone but you."

Harry chucked at the irony. "No one but all the kids you sponsor, your family, Stan, Niall and Liam. Even Zayn, when you're gettin' along with him." Harry grinned.

"Zayn . . . Zayn is difficult . . . stubborn."

"So are you," Harry reminded him gently. "The rest of us aren't. We're more . . . flexible. That's why you and Zayn are so often at odds."

Harry tightened his clasp on Louis' waist. He was tired of jumping through hoops and playing games. He wanted to profess his love for Louis openly, like everyone else in the world when they were in love. Why must it be denied them?

Because they were in show business, and their image had to be upheld. Harry could almost feel Simon's penetrating eyes on him every time he and Lou dared to smile at each other, much less touch. Simon sensed it, even if Harry failed to touch Louis any more than the other lads. That's how strong their connection was. It ate up the very air they breathed, and Harry knew Simon could read it on his face. The overpowering affection. Sometimes love can't be covered up when it trounces on your heart so ruthlessly. There was no compromise, and so they had dodged each other, abstained completely. Because there was no other way.

"I crave you," Louis felt the words bulldoze out of his lips without his consent, but he didn't try to curb it. Lack of control had once been a staple between himself and Harry when they were alone. Harry knew his weaknesses.

"You and your never-ending libido, Tommo."

"No! No, not just libido." Louis looked hurt. "Your closeness—I crave that too."

Harry hugged him tighter, and Louis buried his head in Harry's chest.

"I missed sleeping with you, Haz, on the few occasions we got away with it. I missed playing with your curls, flirting with you, laughing and joking with you. Our long talks. Not just the sex."

"Yes . . . this is the vulnerable Louis only I know about," Harry announced proudly, sighing in contentment.

"Did you see the nice bathtub in there?" Louis jerked his head toward the bathroom.

"Yeah, and it gave me ideas," Harry acknowledged. "We haven't had a bath or shower since before the concert."

"I know. Stinky us," Louis remembered how, in the past, they had washed each other in the bathtub, lingering because it gave them an excuse to steal time for themselves. That was during the X-Factor days, when being off by themselves, away from the other boys was exceedingly difficult, but worth every effort to find it. As if the others hadn't known what was up . . .

But having only one bathroom, they'd made up ridiculous excuses. They'd tell the other lads that Harry was in the shower while Louis shaved, in order to free up more time for the others, as everyone was always fighting over bathroom time. But in reality, Louis and Harry would both be in the shower or bathtub at the same time. And besides that, Louis didn't even shave yet, in those early days. Everyone knew the score, but no one said anything except for Liam, who would occasionally made a cheeky, vague comment, accented with a smirk, and sometimes, a wink. Niall was never a problem. It was widely known that he shipped them.

 _God, I wish the whole world was like Niall,_ thought Louis.

"Okay, I'm gonna go take a bath," Harry then slipped out from underneath Louis and disappeared. Louis just sat there, flabbergasted that Harry would be so abrupt—and actually kind of rude.

But then, a couple of minutes later he heard Harry's voice from the bathroom. Having left the door ajar, Harry was filling up the tub.

"C'mere Lou-Love . . . "

"You left me sat there on the couch . . ." Louis began to complain, but then he saw Harry was naked. Harry's shaft was erect and upright as a flagpole, and it made all Louis' insecurities vanish. Harry had liked the bathtub idea.

As they settled into the warm bath with groans of pleasure, Louis sat between Harry's legs, his back to him. It was the easiest way to fit. Harry's long legs took up a lot of room.

"You know, after you'd ignored me for so long . . . I didn't think you'd come with me," Louis was referring to their "escape."

"Never. Never would I refuse you."

"I almost didn't say it, you know. I came this close," and Louis held up his thumb and forefinger, holding them half an inch apart.

"Well, you grabbed the opportunity, and look where it got us. In this tub, in a hotel in Sweden with one bed, and room service and a balcony."

Louis smiled. Harry was good at listing positives. He'd been that way when they'd been a couple. No matter how tired they'd been, how fed up with rules and regulations and harsh words from Simon, Harry had always had good things to say to cheer Louis up. Mainly about the two of them. And Louis found it hard to resist.

Harry dunked his head under the water, and came up shaking his head like a dog, coaxing his hair back into place the way he was prone to do.

"You're such a twink, Haz. And I mean that in the most complimentary way," Louis added the last few words carefully.

"So you think I'm cute, with a baby face, and no hair on me chest?"

"Yep," Louis nodded. Harry immediately drew his fingers through the hair on Louis' chest.

"Love the feel of it." Harry's eyes were heavy lidded and his voice had dropped an octave. "You don't mind if I'm a bit of a twink?"

"Not at all. Never change, baby." They soaped each other with the loofah sponges that were artfully arranged around the edges of the porcelain tub. Louis laid back against Harry as the younger lad rubbed up and down his torso with the sweet smelling soap, the scent reminding him of honeydew.

"Make your body buoyant for the rest," suggested Harry, and Louis let his lower body float to the top of the water so Harry could scrub all of him. Louis couldn't have been any harder than if he were made out of cement.

Harry's gentle, nurturing hands moved and massaged in such a way that Louis had to beg him to stop. Either that, or have an accident. Harry chuckled. They traded places, which was no easy task, and Louis feared Harry, with his inherent clumsiness, would fall, but thankfully he didn't. Harry was the next one to beg for mercy under Louis' hands. Louis playfully nudged deep between Harry's butt cheeks as he washed him, making Harry gasp. Instead of drawing back though, Harry permitted it, then returned the gesture. Just gentle touches amid the washing, but suggestive and flirty. By now, they were ready to get out of the tub, only too eager for bed.

Louis strode back into the room, and Harry was all eyes.

 _He's so virile, yet so cute,_ he thought. How was it possible? A lot of guys were either just cute, or just handsome, but Louis was both. He was a rarity. And that swagger! He was called Swagmasta for a reason, although Sassamasta fit him just as well.

 _And he's all mine._

They cuddled and kissed for quite a while. Harry aroused Louis to his very limits. The bed felt so good, so soft, so warm. Louis would have been more likely to get right to the meat of the matter, as it were, but Harry loved the slow approach, and Louis secretly adored that. They had always switched between soft and tender, and voracious, according to mood.

Harry again remembered how the people had fawned over him earlier today, and how it had made Louis' territorial instincts kick in. For some reason, just the thought made Harry's dick jump. He began giving Louis the kind of affection Louis couldn't get enough of. Kissing his neck, playing with and licking his nipples, making him whimper.

After what seemed like hours of deep, passionate kissing, Louis said, "Get me wet and slick," finally not able to take any more teasing. "I wanna fuck you, love."

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. It had been so long! And it was something he had fantasized about daily since the last time it had happened. And now Louis was slipping back to their old ways so naturally.

Harry obliged eagerly—in fact he found he couldn't rein himself in. He dove down to Louis' crotch, soaking him with saliva, right down to the root of Louis' cock, slurping, and getting lost in the feeling of every groove and vein in Louis' shaft, his tongue exploring. They had never used lube. They had always preferred it this way. Harry didn't snap out of his lusty trance it until he felt Louis tense, and knew his lover was getting close. He could have sucked Louis all night. He tasted that good.

"God, Harry. I'm close to explodin'. Let me make love to you now."

One more pass over the Donny lad's cock to be sure it was well lubricated, and Harry laid on his back next to Louis. Louis was a mad man. His eyes shot darts of lust right into Harry's. They were both way past greedy. To add to it, Harry's complete trust in him excited Louis until he couldn't see straight. That kind of trust was a huge aphrodisiac.

"I'll be careful, you know I will, Haz. It's been a long time."

Harry nodded. "Hasn't been anyone else. But I think you must know that." They exchanged loving glances before kissing, Louis having climbed on top of Harry. The kiss was sensual, long and slow. Louis wanted Harry to be completely receptive.

"I guessed as much. Was _hopin.'_ Nor for me," Louis added, referring to not having been with anyone else.

Knowing Harry would need time to adjust, Louis slid very slowly between Harry's spread thighs, easing himself into his lover. Louis was big, although not huge like Harry. Still, he knew it had to hurt at first.

"Anytime . . . " Louis voice was strained with holding himself back. "Anytime you want me to stop, just say the word."

Harry nodded as Louis' cock entered him and passed the tight ring. Harry gritted his teeth, but didn't recoil, and Louis studied his face for signs of more than just a little pain. He saw it too, but Harry would not allow him to stop.

"It's okay, baby," Harry gritted out. "Keep going, but slowly."

Louis went as slowly as he possibly could, sweat breaking out on his brow with the effort of restraining himself from thrusting into Harry the way his cock was screaming for him to.

"Feels good," Louis said in a gruff, hushed voice. "You always felt like Heaven, Harry."

"It's a thing," grunted Harry through his pain. "You and me. Always felt good, always felt right."

Harry's eyes were closed, and Louis became concerned. "Stop?" he asked. Harry shook his head with resolve. As the pain began to recede, Harry wanted more and more of this drug that was Louis. His love for Louis burned much stronger and brighter than the other burn he was feeling right now.

Gradually, Louis felt the change in Harry. Harry was beginning to squeeze his cock, as he'd done in the past. Louis looked down and saw Harry's cock was rock hard. And so he knew they had crossed the barriers. The barriers of a slight degree of uncertainty and physical pain.

When Harry's hips rose, Louis knew Harry wanted him in deeper.

"Okay?" asked Louis. Harry's eyes opened again, staring at him with unveiled love.

"Okay. Fuck me, Lou."

Ah, "bedroom talk" Harry! How Louis loved it!

Louis buried himself in Harry, gasping and panting and nearly choking all at once with the sensations. Harry's inner muscles rippled around Louis' twitching, pulsing cock.

Once all the way in, Harry's dazed, dreamy look inspired Louis to the ends of the earth. Moving slowly and evenly at first, Louis watched Harry's expression like a hawk-the signals he knew to look for. If Harry wanted it slow or fast, soft and tender, or a bit rough. Harry's hips rose again as he grasped Louis' butt with his big hands, kneading the cheeks, pulling Louis sharply down. That was when Louis knew Harry needed it hard.

"So round, so luscious," murmured Harry, massaging the meaty globes.

Louis moved faster, harder, keeping close watch on Harry, but all he saw was Harry's eyes, mere slits, looking down at their joined bodies, grunting now.

Louis thrust into him hard, pushing Harry's shoulders down on the bed, as it all came rushing back to him. The nights Harry had wanted it hard and fast and furious. The way he'd begged for it, clawing at Louis, as he was doing now. The whines slid from Harry's throat and straight into Louis' heart.

"Haz, I can't . . . I can't . . . control meself."

"Then don't. Fuck me, sweet Boo. It's been so long, and God, I _need_ you."

Louis, being quite flexible and agile, bent over just enough to take the head of Harry's cock into his mouth, and suck hard on the tip. Harry had been building up to a soul shattering orgasm as it was, but when Louis did that, the earth actually seemed to move. Landslides crashed in on him, and Harry erupted, crying out Louis' name.

"Louis . . . Louis . . . Louis!"

Louis came himself before Harry's climax was even half over. The creamy ejaculate and Harry's thrashing hips knocked him right over the edge. And he went willingly, sucking at and swallowing every spurt until there was none left, while spilling himself freely inside Harry. They thrashed and they vocalized with animal-like sounds. Harry rocked into Louis' mouth a few more times, squeezing all the while at Louis' cock with his inner muscles. At last collapsing on Harry, Louis nibbled Harry's earlobe, basking in the afterglow they'd always treasured.

Snuggling together afterward, they talked.

"I wonder just how pissed off Simon is at us," Louis said idly, thinking out loud.

"No tellin.' But I do know he's not likin' the loss of control over us. Simon creeps me out."

"Yeah, me too. He's one I _can't_ intimidate," Louis smiled, and Harry smiled his agreement.

They cuddled and talked of never having to be apart again. Maybe they were being naïve, thinking things would be rosy when they went back. But for now, they could only hope.

Both thought they'd stay up all night easily, but the time difference must have still been affecting them, because at some point, they both fell asleep. Neither one remembered who had spoken last. Each one hated themselves for feeling sleepy, knowing they had only one more full day together, but nevertheless, sleep overtook them.

In the morning, Louis woke up first, found himself to be spooning Harry, and he waited patiently for Harry to stir. When he finally did, he whispered in the curly lad's ear.

"Waking up beside you I'm a loaded gun . . ."

Harry smiled lazily. "I know . . . he drawled sleepily. "You can't contain this anymore, you're all mine, you've got no control . .. . no control."

Louis laughed.

"Well, sorry Lou, but I don't think I can take any more at the moment," Harry murmured apologetically, feeling Louis' hard erection against his butt and mourning over what a waste it was.

Harry got up rather gingerly to go to the bathroom for his morning pee. He shuffled, half asleep, his gait not typical, toward the loo.

"Harry, what are ya doin'?" asked Louis.

"Tryin' to walk."


	7. Chapter 7

"Ohhhhh . . . Lou," Harry moaned and squirmed. Louis was working his nipples over as Harry lay back on the couch, shirtless. Louis had _attacked_ him, literally attacked him. With no warning, he'd entered the room and pounced on Harry, eyes wild, nostrils flared like a feral stallion. Harry was constantly amazed at how Louis hadn't changed one bit. You never know what you were going to get with Lou. He was still full of surprises, always keeping Harry guessing.

The rhythmic sucking of his nipples went straight down to Harry's cock, making it twitch. Harry tried to slow his breathing, but Louis' mouth was overpowering.

Louis lifted his head briefly. "Hey, I read somewhere that if you do this several times a day, it can initiate lactation."

Harry was taken aback. "Aw, come on. Maybe in a woman, but a man?"

"I dunno, but it'd be fun to try. Frequent stimulation . . . _yeah."_ Louis voice was sultry, especially accenting the last word.

"Sounds kinda sensual . . . ohhhhh."

Louis was at it again. He knew Harry's body as if it were a map he'd thoroughly studied. Well, in fact, he _had_ studied it—on many, many occasions.

"Hell, yeah. Sensual. I think we'd both enjoy it, a _lot_." Louis drew back for a beat and admired Harry's puckered, tight nipples, wet from his mouth and erect from all the oral attention.

"Why does it feel so damn good?" Harry asked.

"Don't question, just enjoy," advised Louis as he resumed the licking, sucking and nipping. He had Harry so worked up that he would bet he could do or suggest just about anything, and Harry would take him up on it.

"How would you feel if we went out on the balcony and I did this?" Louis' voice held an almost evil tone. "Or better yet, say we're already out there giving a free show, and I could add more spice—?"

Harry gasped. "You wouldn't really . . . would you?"

"I might," Louis teased. Harry wasn't sure if Louis was serious or not, but he sure didn't want to get arrested. That would go over _real_ well with Simon. He could see the headlines now: _Two members of One Direction spotted on balcony in Sweden, performing lewd sex acts_.

If he wasn't so damn turned on, he would have giggled. That would be the ultimate to get Simon's goat.

"Maybe when it's like heavy dusk? When we may or may not be seen, yeah?" Louis was already so aroused at the mere thought of doing something illicit with Harry where they might be seen that dampness was rapidly forming on the front of his tented boxer briefs.

Harry considered it—he really did. But he was also tentative, and rightly so.

"I'm so massively turned on, Harry," Louis' eyes pleaded when he stopped mouthing Harry yet again.

"I honestly believe I might come in me bloody pants," Harry whined.

"That's another goal for later, but right now, I need you."

Harry knew instantly what Louis wanted, and Harry was ready to deliver.

"Ah, my Chop Suey," Harry's voice caressed. "Let's go in the bedroom."

In the bedroom, Louis attacked him again. A lion attacking a poor, innocent gazelle. Jerking Harry's underwear down with no preamble, his lips greedy, he engulfed and coated Harry's shaft with saliva, not a shred of embarrassment in the smacking, satisfied sounds his lips, mouth and throat made.

He was so carnal, thought Harry. So wild and unafraid to extract every bit of pleasure out of sex that he could. Harry admired Louis for many things, but this was one thing that was especially impressive, and something Harry cherished, always looked forward to. Louis was so sensual, and capable of taking Harry to heights he hadn't known were even achievable.

As soon as Harry's legs started to shake, Louis knew to stop. He turned his back to Harry, getting on his hands and knees on the bed, backing up to Harry. _Like a bitch in heat,_ thought Harry, a grin stealing over his mouth.

 _Boo Bear was feeling especially dirty_. It whet Harry's appetite, making him tremble all over. He spread Louis' butt cheeks and guided himself. All that could be heard were long, labored pants from both of them. As Harry began to ease in, Louis tensed and stopped breathing. Harry felt sorry for him. He was huge, and Louis hadn't had this in two years.

Harry stopped. "Baby, I'm too big. Let me prepare you first, okay?" Harry's finger probed between Louis' cheeks as it had in the bathroom, but this time it wasn't in fun—it was for real. He introduced his finger very slowly and gently, and Louis didn't hesitate or even flinch. He trusted Harry absolutely.

"You know what to do . . . just relax," Harry's soft voice soothed. In tiny increments, Harry pushed his finger in. He slid it in and out a few times, then made sure he massaged Louis' prostate gland a bit, and in no time Louis was gasping, wanting more. So in went another finger. More massaging, more sliding in and out—a bit faster this time, and Louis backed up more, pushing into Harry's body.

Being exposed to the air, the saliva on Harry's cock had mostly dried. No matter. Harry's head neared Louis' rear end, his hair brushing against Louis' thighs, causing Louis' breath to hitch and goose bumps to rise. Harry kissed and nibbled Louis' upper thighs, and then the cheeks of that gorgeous plump ass. He was going to do something he loved, and he knew Louis did too.

He pulled Louis' cheeks apart again, and buried his face between them. Louis yelped in surprise, then let out a long, low moan. Memories rushed in. Harry was going to lubricate him in a way they had both loved in the old days. Louis was stock still, hardly breathing, anticipating. Harry's tongue appeared, and he dabbed it against Louis' hole.

"Oh!" Louis began to grind his teeth with the expectation. "Oh Harry . . ."

Harry licked now, moaning softly. Louis went down on his elbows, butt still in the air, breathing hard and heavy.

"Oh God . . . "

Harry continued on, licking faster and more thoroughly for some minutes, getting bolder, then suddenly his tongue pushed past the opening, venturing _inside_ Louis. Louis cried out with a reflex action, not from choice. He heard Harry's breathing matching his own, and knew Harry was enjoying it the same as he had all those eons ago.

"Oh God . . . oh God."

Harry moved his tongue in and out long enough to make Louis almost unravel. He reached under Louis and felt how rigid Louis' cock was, how it throbbed and jerked.

Lots of saliva later, Harry attempted to enter with his cock again. Louis yelped just a little, his forehead resting on his forearm.

"Shall I stop?" Harry waited for an answer, and when there was none, he persisted. "Tell me, Louis."

"Don't stop," Louis' voice was small and frail sounding.

Harry exercised more restraint than he ever had in his life. Swear to God. Everything in his mind and body told him to thrust, but he somehow resisted the urge long enough to get about halfway in.

"Lou! You're so tight!"

Louis didn't answer. He was busy trying to accommodate Harry without screaming.

Harry stopped a little past midway, knowing Louis wouldn't ask him to stop because he knew it would soon cease to be painful, and become nothing but blissful. But first, Harry had to get him there.

Now pumping Louis' cock with his hand, Harry spread the older boy's pre-come all over the head, allowing his fingers to caress. Louis moaned and pushed harder into him, forcing Harry's cock in farther. Harry practiced diligence, for fear of Louis blowing his load before either of them were ready.

It took nearly five minutes to bury himself to the hilt, but he got there. By now, Louis had relaxed sufficiently, and was actively helping by rocking backward into Harry with a cadence.

Well pleased because he had imagined it would take more than one session to "stretch" Louis back to the way he was two years ago, Harry began to roll his hips. He made sure that he angled his erection so that it rubbed against Louis' prostate gland, hitting it sporadically, as he knew that would aid in arousing Louis enough to completely relax and maximally enjoy the experience.

It worked. Louis' cries were hoarse and pleading.

"Harry . . . Hazza. Feels so fuckin' good. Harder Harry. I need more."

This drove Harry wild. Those words made something in his belly begin to warm and expand, his balls to become tight. His orgasm wasn't far off, and they'd barely begun. But he did have to remind himself how sore he'd been, and still was. He was bigger than Louis, and he didn't want to have his lover suffering later on.

"I need to come soon, love. We need to go easy on you this first time," Harry was straining to talk because the pleasure was so intense.

"Okay . . . " Louis' voice was tiny, forced.

Harry pumped a few more times, wildly stroking Louis' cock, and making sure he was touching and rubbing Louis' prostate with his cock at the same time.

Within seconds, Louis' cock began to pulse under Harry's hand, Louis' entire body seemed to take a giant breath, and then Louis squirted onto the bed with great force. Louis was yowling now, grunting and swearing all the while. Harry could finally stop trying to hold his climax back, and he happily gave in to the steady pressure on his cock, the spasms that tore through Louis, making him squeeze Harry over and over.

As Harry allowed himself to slip into the abyss of ecstasy, he uttered endearments to Louis, and strangely it blended with his dirty bedroom talk, evolving into a loving, sensual, low pitched monologue that was tailored just for Louis. Groaning in appreciation, Louis, musing that he'd come a tremendous amount already, spurted twice more, although with much less velocity. Harry was groaning helplessly, half-thrusting still.

It had been so intense that they just stayed where they were for the moment, Harry's arms wrapped around Louis' waist, and Louis lowering himself to the bed so he was on his belly, Harry on his back. When he had the strength, Harry rolled his lover over to face him, their eyes locked, and they embraced, grateful for this opportunity, that had finally come after two very long years of hoping, dreaming, and nearly despairing.

"Can you believe it Harold? I came _twice_." Louis felt like he was conqueror of the world.

Louis cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled "Oi oi!" off the balcony and into the street. Harry giggled when people looked up, surely wondering if the young man was in possession of all his marbles.

"What ya do that for?" asked Harry, strolling out onto the balcony himself.

"Just for the hell of it, and because I can." A typical answer. Louis did a lot of things just for the hell of it, and because he could.

"Jus' bein' obnoxious as usual," volunteered Harry as he slipped his arms around Louis. Louis leaned into the embrace willingly, sighing. He was losing his shyness up here, on the balcony, noted Harry.

"I see you're a lot less shy about showing me affection up here now." Louis had indeed loosened up considerably since yesterday.

"Payno just called, by the way. Jus' checkin' on us, really," Harry said. "Told him all was well with us. He didn't mention Simon or management much, so I guess things aren't too 'round the bend. Not yet, anyway. Niall got on the phone too, just sayin' hi." Louis nodded.

"Right," Harry went on. "It's lunch time. Want me to call room service? We can go out to dinner tonight if you'd like." Louis loved the way Harry worded things, so polite, giving him options, treating him like a lover, which, in actuality, he was. Such a gentleman.

"Sounds perfect." Louis tried to divert his thoughts from the fact that tonight would be their last night together, alone.

Harry ordered stuffed cabbage rolls that came with new potatoes for lunch. He had a feeling Louis would love them because Louis liked cabbage, and was fond of stuffed bell peppers, so it seemed very likely Louis would take to them.

The same young man that had delivered their cheesecake that first night was the one to deliver again. And _again,_ he stared at Harry openly. Louis was amused. As he handed the tray to Harry, the young man seemingly plucked some hidden courage from somewhere and began to quote 1D lyrics in fast succession. Louis realized immediately that this was not random, and there was a message within:

 _The script was written and I could not change a thing. I wanted to rip it all to shreds and start again._

 _Who's that shadow holding me hostage? I've been here for days._

 _Down to earth, feels like I'm frozen but the world still turns. Stuck in motion but the wheels keep turning 'round. Moving in reverse with no way out._

 _Want to drive in the night 'til the end of the earth and go over the edge._

 _Say the word, say the word, but don't say no. Sky dive, you and I with just these clothes._

 _Yeah, yeah, that's what crazy is. When it's broken, you say there's nothing to fix._

 _You were never on your own, and the proof is in this song._

 _I can't be no Superman, but for you, I'd be Superhuman._

 _Nobody can drag me down. Nobody, nobody._

 _I've been searching every lonely place, every corner calling out your name._

 _Make a little conversation, so long I've been waiting to let go of myself and feel alive._

 _Pay attention, I hope that you listen, 'cause I let my guard down. Right now I'm completely defenseless._

 _Your secret's safe with me. There's no right time or place. 'Cause anyone could see. Do it anyway._

 _I want you to hit the pedal, heavy metal, show me you care._

 _It's like I'm finally awake and you're just a beautiful mistake._

 _Forget about the clock that's tick-tick-tickin.'_

 _I don't know how to sum it up, cause words ain't good enough._

 _Could we ever be enough? Baby, we could be enough."_

 _ **Wow**_ _._ Louis had paid rapt attention, and the lyrics, carefully placed in perfect order, told their entire story. It was pretty obvious Harry had set this up. He wondered when, and then he remembered Harry had claimed he had a headache this morning, and had supposedly taken an aspirin and said he would lay down on the couch while Louis was in the shower. He must have run the list of lyrics down to the office, and paid the guy to recite them when he brought their lunch! The guy had only occasionally looked down at the slip of paper he held, and it amazed Louis that he could memorize so much of it in so short a span of time.

Another mystery was when Harry had put all those lyrics together just right to fit the two of them. They really hadn't been apart long enough since they'd been here to allow Harry the time. Unless Harry had written them down before their escape. Maybe he'd hoped something like this might happen in the future, and he'd had them ready for who knows how long. Louis wouldn't put it past him. It had taken a lot of thought, a lot of love.

When the door was closed, the young guy with the mouth agape gone, and they were alone again, their embrace was especially tender.

"I got it, Harry. I got it all," Louis let Harry know he'd picked up on the beautiful message. Harry blushed.

"Only thing that wasn't perfect was the Superman part," Louis joked. " _I'm_ Superman, remember?"

"Wrong. The lyrics are 'I can't be no Superman, but for you I'd be superhuman," Harry looked proud of himself, and Louis had to admit he was correct.

"I love you," he said simply. "Let's eat!"

Louis shook his head in wonder. Styles had always enchanted him, but this topped all.

"I can't pronounce the name of this, but it's the same as stuffed cabbage, so that's what we'll have to call it. These Swedish names for dishes are _killin'_ me."

That was so true. Louis had to laugh. Some were nearly impossible to pronounce. Harry was often funny without even realizing it. This was an example of the times Louis found him most attractive. His clumsy, awkward pursuit to express himself was frequently humorous, leaving Harry mystified as to why he made people smile so much.

After they ate, Louis was again out on the balcony, on one of the chaise lounges, Harry in the corner of the balcony, looking so sexy that it should have been illegal. His plaid shirt halfway unbuttoned, his black skinny jeans, and bare feet- one propped up on the railing, elbows also on the railing, having done nothing with his hair but to wash and comb it, which meant it kept falling over his forehead, and sometimes into his eyes, and Harry had to keep scooping it back in his signature way. Every time he did, Louis' heart stopped and cramped up in a disconcerting manner.

"Me ass hurts. Oh, me ass," said Harry mournfully, not realizing how comical he was being _again._ Of course his ass hurt. Louis' did too. In fact, Louis' had to hurt _more,_ because Harry was so damn huge. But Louis, ever the stoic, hadn't said a word of complaint about it.

Louis made a funny sound, trying to keep his laughter contained, because Harry didn't think having a sore ass was the least bit laughable. He didn't do well with pain.

"C'mere Styles," Louis had a devious look on his face, and Harry folded in on himself in suspicion, wedging his body farther into the corner of the balcony.

"What do you want?" he asked, trepidation peppering his words.

"Come on, Haz. I'm not gonna lunge at you or sommat."

"I'm not entirely sure of that," Harry responded.

"Why?"

"Because you do it, like, a _lot_ , man."

""That's just in play. I'm serious now, yeah?"

Yes, Louis could be obnoxious. In fact, he was an expert in that field. Harry never knew if he was going to be "petted" too roughly on top of his head, or have a blow dryer aimed at his already dry hair at close range. Of course, Louis didn't _have_ a hair dryer here, but still . . . Harry never, ever fought back. He was passive with Louis. He just let Louis have his way, and eventually the lad would grow tired of torturing him. Then there were the pranks. But that was a whole different story. So Harry was wise to be hesitant. _Never trust Louis._

Harry chuckled to himself and sauntered over, his green eyes shining bright in the Swedish sun, his brown curly hair shiny and flowing in the slight breeze, stealing Louis' breath away.

"Want to fool around here, on the balcony this evening?" asked Louis.

Damn. Harry was hoping Louis had forgotten about that. If Louis was too shy to be seen naked up here, why was he suddenly so eager to do something sexual?

"I'm kinda scared," Harry admitted.

"You wanker." Louis turned and walked back inside without another word. _Attitude_. Harry laughed, then grinned at the muscle in his lover's biceps, and, good grief, but he never grew tired of Louis' bouncing "bad boy" walk. The lad strutted everywhere he went. Made Harry want to do all kinds of things to him.

It was amazing how strong Louis was, despite his lean body. Lean, agile and _deadly,_ thought Harry. Get on Louis' wrong side, and push him, and you wouldn't see the light of day for a while. The one exception was Harry. Louis always had him in his sites. He protected and babied Harry. He'd continued to do it subconsciously even when they had avoided each other for so long. Somehow he'd accomplished it without calling undue attention to it. He stood up for Harry on many occasions without being obvious, and it hadn't escaped Harry.

What was Louis up to now? Harry decided he'd better go inside and find out . . .


	8. Chapter 8

No sooner had Harry walked inside, that Louis said, "After dinner," simply and without ceremony. Harry knew something was churning in the Donny lad's head. Harry was reluctant to ask what Louis was referring to, because something told him Louis was still on his "sex on the balcony" kick.

And indeed he was. "You started it Carlito, with your nudity. I'm jus' gonna finish it."

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. "Sunshine . . ." he started out, using one of his favorite nicknames for Louis, hoping to calm the currently sleeping, but easy-roused beast in his lover.

"Jus' what did you have planned?" He felt like plugging his ears and singing loudly so he wouldn't have to hear the answer.

"How about we just wait and see what feels natural and right."

 _Dangerous territory._ Louis was known for being extreme in some instances. What was "natural and right" for him might be precarious for Harry.

"What if we get arrested?" Harry asked in mild desperation.

"Not gonna happen. Won't let it." Louis could sound so convincing . . .

They spent the rest of the day in their room, watching the telly, but not really, because each of them was keeping the other in his side vision. There were many displays of affection, many hugs, many kisses, hands running through hair, fingers rasping against stubble, sweet words of love spoken.

The day passed too quickly, and before they knew it, Harry had to call for their reservations at the restaurant for six o'clock. They wanted to get back no later than eight, since it was their last night, and Louis evidently had plans, and Harry undeniably didn't want to be anywhere else.

But before they left, there was Harry with his mostly unbuttoned shirt and scarf tied haphazardly around his neck, making his own fashion statement as usual. Louis couldn't fight his attraction, and he shoved Harry against the wall, breathing his scent in, licking his neck, and practically eating him alive.

Harry laughed and grabbed Louis' butt in his hands.

"This ass . . . " he said dreamily. "No wonder fans grab it or slap it whenever they can get close enough. It's torment to look at it and not be able to touch it." Through Louis' dress pants, Harry's long, flexible fingers massaged, loving the smooth feel with no annoying ridges made by underwear.

Harry bent his knees just a couple of inches to get himself exactly on Louis' level to enable him to rub their crotches together. Harry's cock was fully erect and standing straight up. Louis' was mostly hard, but painfully restricted, so Harry ran his hands under Louis' waistband, relishing Louis' gasp of surprise and pleasure, and straightened Louis' cock so it was no longer cramped, but standing tall.

It started out with an almost imperceptible touching of their lower bodies, and then Harry, his hands once again cupping Louis' ass, brushed his crotch against Louis' a bit more noticeably, and Louis instantly caught on, and ground himself into Harry. This set off a chain of events.

The rubbing continued, with added pressure until they were basically dry humping each other.

Louis' head dropped backward, nothing holding him up but Harry's hands—one on his mid back and the other still on his butt.

"Want to save it until after dinner?" asked Harry, his voice gruff sounding with his barely bridled desire.

"You know us . . . we can come multiple times a day," Louis reminded him, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah but . . . the tension, man. I want a lot of sexual tension at the restaurant, at dinner."

"Styles, you are _always_ wanting to tease me! You bastard!"

Harry just laughed again. "You're impossible to keep satiated, Lou. Even if we sucked and fucked each other all day and all night, you'd still want more."

Louis gasped. "Harry! You don't usually talk like that until we're in bed."

"I know, but you have this effect on me, and I want to seduce you, and I know you like it when I talk dirty, so I thought I'd pull out all the stops."

"Give me a break. Do you want to wait until we get back from dinner, or do you want me to lick your entire body, and do lots of other things I could never get enough of?" asked Louis.

Harry flushed a deep red. "Let's wait," he decided. "I want you worked up to the point that you're beggin.'"

The restaurant was intimate and romantic. They could tell a few people recognized them, but no one came over for an autograph—they just stared. In any case, the lads couldn't show affection, hold hands or touch each other at all for fear it would hit the newspapers before they could blink an eye. As it was, there would still be reports aplenty of them being seen together in a restaurant.

About that time, Louis spied a booth situated in an alcove with a colored glass room divider that would shield them from the other patrons. He asked the waiter if they could have that booth. The man hesitated, and Harry flashed him his famous dimpled grin, and the man practically melted on the spot. They didn't even have to mention they were members of 1D.

"But of course," he said, leading the boys to the booth in question.

"Usin' your charms again, Harry?" asked Louis, giving him a foxy smile.

Harry put on his innocent face. "I jus' smiled at him. Can't help it if he's into boys."

"You put it to good use. Happy times."

After they had ordered, Harry slipped over to Louis' side of the booth and placed his hand on Louis' thigh, wrapping his ankle around Louis' ankle. Contact—Harry loved the contact.

The alcoholic drinks Harry ordered them had the main ingredient of vodka. They were called Swedish Mules, and Louis had instructed Harry to order them. Louis explained that it's too cold to ripen grapes in Sweden, so wine was not common. When the waiter brought the drinks, Harry could have sworn the man had a slightly disapproving look on his face. Louis knew why.

"At least two-thirds of Swedes don't drink alcohol during the week. This is a weekday," he reminded Harry, who had lost all sense of days or time because Louis kept him in a perpetual state of concentrating only on his lover.

"But they make up for it by drinking a _lot_ on the weekends," Louis explained further. "Seems that here, you either don't drink, or you drink a lot, depending on what day it is. So with it being a weekday, the waiter might well think we're drunks."

Harry was horrified by that thought, but not so horrified as to stop drinking. "He can hear our accent, and must surely realize Brits don't follow those rules."

Louis smiled and shrugged, as if to say he didn't give a shit anyway, and they toasted each other. Frankly, neither one really cared what anyone else thought—only what they thought of each other, and that was nothing but complete, utter adoration.

They hardly paid attention to what they'd ordered, which happened to be Swedish spareribs. They were too busy flirting outrageously, and not having to worry because the rest of the restaurant couldn't see them. The food was good though, allspice dominating the recipe.

"Remember the time you were jealous of Zayn feeding me, and you flicked a sausage off the fork Zayn held?" Louis was getting nostalgic again.

"Yeah, and I really _was_ jealous, even though I acted light-hearted about it."

 _"I'm gettin' jealous down here . . ._ " Louis mocked him. Harry slapped at him.

"Well, there wasn't much I could do, being nearly all the way to the other end of the table," Harry defended himself.

"I rather like it. When you get hoggish for me attention."

Harry brushed his knuckles against Louis' sexy stubble. Sparks seemed to skitter over Louis' highly sensitive skin. Harry's soft touch made it even more sensitive. He _lived_ for these touches.

Harry whispered something into Louis' ear that was just the slightest bit too soft for Louis to hear clearly.

Louis lifted his eyebrows and indicated Harry should whisper it again.

Harry said it again, and again it was too soft. But . . . had it been what he _thought_ he'd heard?

No, couldn't have been. Louis pulled back, wide-eyed, a question mark in those beautiful blues of his.

"You heard me," Harry's silky, sultry voice reminded Louis of that concert when he'd done the same thing. And when the same sequence had followed, Harry had said "You heard me."

Even the wording was exactly the same. "I want to get down on me knees and suck you." And he'd shocked Louis again. Louis didn't get disconcerted easily, but if anyone could do it, it was Harry, because this was rare for Harry.

Harry's expression showed not only desire, but love and affection. Everything Louis wanted to see. And while Harry loved Louis' sass, he also loved when Louis snuggled into him with no pretenses and no expectations. The little kisses Harry nicked now and then excited Louis, because, even though Harry had invited him to dinner, Harry had been a little spooked by their public appearance. But he'd done it for Louis. It told Louis that Harry was wanting to please him, and was also giving in to the liquor and giving his preoccupation with Louis a free rein.

Louis responded by tracing lines up and down the side of Harry's thigh closest to him. The way Harry squirmed told Louis he was plenty aroused.

Both lads were buzzed by the time they left the restaurant. Louis had lost track of how many Swedish mules they'd had, but they were giggling and walking as if on air.

"This feels so right," said Louis simply, hoping Harry would know what he meant. He did.

" _We_ are so right, Sunshine. Nothing has changed in five years."

Louis eyes prickled, and he realized he was precariously close to showing more emotion than he cared to on the walk home. It was still light outside. At first, it had startled the lads, as they were used to it being dark by this time, but then they quickly remembered they were in Sweden.

When they got back to the hotel, their lips were hungry for each other. Harry's mouth was on Louis' in a hot second. They kissed long and slow, but the urgency was barely under the surface. The taste of the sweet drink in Louis' mouth—oh, sweet Jesus. Harry wanted to hold back, tease Louis a bit, but the rational side of him was long gone. The primal side had taken over.

"I bloody want you, even though I promised to have you beggin' for it earlier," he admitted.

"Funny, that. But I felt that from the off. And hopin' you wouldn't make me beg over much."

"You need to be humped, Lou."

Yeah, Harry was buzzed. Harry didn't drink as much as Louis and Niall, so he was rather more of a lightweight, and he never failed to get horny when drinking. Maybe that was why he'd only had an occasional drink or two in the last two years, thought Louis. Maybe he didn't trust himself around Louis. The thought made Louis' heart race and his palms quiver and get damp.

"And you, mate, need to get fucked."

Harry wasn't sure if Louis was saying that in a sexy, serious way, or a playful way. Then he saw the ghost of a grin curling the edges of Louis' lips up. Yep, Louis was right back to being a playful, cheeky jerk. But Harry adored it because that was Louis—changeable as a chameleon. You never knew what you were gonna get. But you could bet it would be almost more than you could handle. Because when Louis went for something, he put his heart and soul into it. And Harry had signed up for it.

 _Go all out, Lou._

"Balcony," Louis murmured. Harry sighed in mock resignation, when in reality, he was now more curious than nervous.

 _We're getting there_ , thought Louis.

They undressed and changed into their boxer briefs and nothing else, Louis' eyes bright with excitement. The lad was always up for an adventure, but this was one adventure he hadn't had before, and doing it with Harry was the best kind of pleasurable undertaking he could think of.

They pulled the chaise lounges over to the corner and toward the front of the balcony at Louis' direction.

"Let's wait until it gets a little later, and therefore, fewer people on the street," Louis tried to sound as casual as he could so he wouldn't spook Harry.

Harry went along for the ride, a blissful smile on his face. They didn't waste the time in between—they put it to good use. They kissed deeply and soulfully and reminisced about all the sensual things they had done in the tour bus, or when they could get away long enough for a rendezvous where fans, paps or management wouldn't find out. It hadn't been easy, but when they were successful, it had been the best kind of forbidden sweet.

It was getting close to dusk, and Louis and Harry were approaching desperation. Now even Harry was long past caring if people saw them kissing on the balcony. Their bodies were crying out for each other.

A sidelong glance had Louis noticing a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties looking up at them on the balcony. They had just finished an especially passionate kiss. At the moment, there was no one else nearby, and the woman's level of interest was high—Louis could sense it. The manner in which she'd look up, and then quickly look away, wait a few seconds and then look up again tipped Louis off to her state of mind. Reinforced it, rather. Lou had a sixth sense about people. She was the one—he knew it in an instant. She was the one who would appreciate a show, even though it was bound to be a short one, because he knew Harry was aroused to no end.

Being diligent not to make eye contact, and doing nothing to alert her to the fact that he saw her, Louis remained engrossed in Harry, whispering to him as he kissed his neck and ear, that there was someone watching them. Harry kept his eyes tightly closed, afraid he'd chicken out.

Louis was glad the person watching was a woman. He didn't trust a man not to try to cause trouble—specifically, by trying to take Harry away from him. This was ideal, and Louis grabbed it while he could.

Louis had to act fast, before the woman passed the balcony. Quickly, he slipped his hand into the waistband of Harry's briefs. Harry gasped, but remained stationary, eyes still squeezed shut tightly, Louis noted with amusement. Louis knew the chaise lounge was positioned so the woman could see Harry's lap. Harry's cock was now free, and Louis pulled it away from Harry's navel, and straight toward the sky, to ensure her unobstructed view.

Out of his side vision, Louis saw the woman peering around her in a furtive manner, then she slid between two buildings so that she was unseen from the street, but she could also see what was happening on the balcony. Bingo! She must be one horny chick!

This was easier than Louis could have ever foreseen. His heart racing, he pumped Harry's huge cock two or three times, keeping his eyes on it and not giving any indication that he knew she was lurking there, watching.

Then he leaned forward, blowing warm air on that massive cock, causing Harry to moan and raise his hips. Louis knew the woman could see that too, and he wanted this to be as sexy as he could make it. He and Harry were both fit to bursting from desire, and that was good, as he didn't want to linger longer than necessary for fear someone else might see, and report them.

Louis licked and then sucked the head of Harry's cock, letting his body language show how turned on he was. Licking quickly, sucking greedily, leaning his chest into Harry, all the while making sure Harry's cock stayed in plain view for the woman. He stuck his tongue out, making it clear he was licking the slit on the top of the head, moaning himself, more out of uncontained desire than trying to give the woman a show.

When he began sucking again, Harry's balls were pulled up tight, and his cock was suddenly so incredibly hard that Louis knew he was very close to coming. Perfect. Nice, fast blowjob that was also very dirty so as to be extra stimulating. Louis hollowed his cheeks and really went for it, swirling his tongue at the same time he sucked. Harry blew almost right away, as Louis had known he would.

Louis swore Harry's climax caused an earthquake. Harry's chaise lounge was shaking, and it seemed the whole balcony was too. Harry was very vocal, grunting plenty loud enough for the woman below to hear. Louis caught the first two spurts, and then pulled Harry's cock from his mouth and let him continue his orgasm on his belly so the woman could see that Harry was coming—that it was the real thing.

Louis pumped him until he was spent. Immediately after Harry stopped his gyrations and moans, Louis dragged him back inside. It was evident that Harry's legs were so weak he could hardly walk. Harry collapsed on to a chair, and Louis laughed, slapping his thigh.

"Oh man! You're a right horny lad, you are! That lady will go home now and fantasize about that for a long time to come! Probably for the rest of her life!" he cried.

"She? It was a she?" inquired Harry, still out of breath.

"Yeah. Mid-twenties. She saw us kissing and looked really interested, then she went between two buildings where she could watch!" Louis was delighted.

"No one else saw?"

"I don't know for sure, but I doubt it. I couldn't look around because she might have realized what we were doing."

"And just what _were_ we doing?"

"What do you think, Haz? Putting on a show, of course! And loving it too."

"So you really _are_ kinky!"

Louis shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I am, in a way."

"You're an exhibitionist!" Harry said accusingly, and then burst into laughter of his own.

"Well, as of now, so are you, Harold!"

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, I guess so," he looked a little pale at the mere thought.

"Come on, everyone has their own little fetishes. I like to watch, too," Louis confessed.

"You're a _voyeur_ too?" Now Harry was completely engaged, riveted to Louis' face.

"Yeah, guess so."

"Have you really done it? Watched?"

Louis nodded. Harry's expression was smoky now, and Louis recognized the look. Louis didn't hesitate. He tore off his boxer briefs, and then Harry's too.

"You horny wanker, you," and he pushed Harry to the floor on his side. Louis turned his own body In the opposite direction and thrust his dick at Harry's face. He couldn't remember ever being quite this horny. The thrill of being watched was still with him, and still positively heady.

Even though Louis had just made him come, Harry was again hard as cement. He grabbed Louis' buttocks and pulled his dick into his mouth.

"Ahhhh . . . Harry, you devil! What an oversexed bastard you are!"

Harry laughed, until Louis began to suck him, and then he dissolved into a puddle of lust. Louis was sure the wet noises their mouths made was enough to make him come, all by itself. He was that worked up. After half a dozen draws of Harry's mouth, Louis exploded.

Just having come, it took Harry a little longer, but not by much. He seemed to come even stronger the second time, if that were possible, and it seemed to last a lifetime, much to Louis' delight.

"Wow," Harry said afterward. Twice, one right after the other."

"Ah, come on, Haz. I came twice too, yesterday, I think it was." Time was blurred for the both of them, since they hadn't wanted to think in terms of time since they'd made their escape.

"Don't you remember when we both had came several times a night?" asked Louis. "When we used to sneak around?"

Harry smiled. He loved remembering those days. "Oh yeah . . . how could I not? When we were finally able to manage to meet up secretly, we were all over each other. We're older now. Not as potent as when we were sixteen and eighteen," he said, teasing Louis with a smile, because they both knew they were still very much capable of it, and tonight would prove it.

"Oh yeah, really old. Twenty-two and twenty-four," Louis laughed. "Remember the other day when I told you I'd pay you back for poking at me?" asked Louis.

Harry nodded.

"Well, I did. I sucked you off in front of a complete stranger!"

Harry hesitated, unsure. "That was payback?" He suddenly looked alarmed, but calmed immediately when Louis turned around in order to face him, cooed at him and petted his hair.

"Of course not. I was joking. I thought we'd both adore it. And if I'm correct, we did, didn't we? I, for one, am chuffed."

Harry chuckled. "Me too. It was exciting as hell, even though I couldn't bring meself to open me eyes. It was so weird—knowing someone was watching. It was exciting beyond belief. But what you were doing aroused me even more. I wish I could explain it. It was like I was helpless, and couldn't do anything but enjoy what you were doing, and imagining how it felt for the person who was watching. I was at your mercy, and _loving it._ But . . . right now, I think I'd better go wash my chest," he pointed to all the come that was coating it, and beginning to dry.

"I need to stay on me toes in case they come to arrest us," Louis said nonchalantly. Harry, on his way to the bathroom, spun around. "You don't think?"

"Nah. I know the lady wouldn't report us, as she was definitely not a prude, and was obviously enjoying it, and I didn't see anyone else walking the street from the side of my vision. No one who looked up, anyway."

"Louis, we get arrested, and I'll never let you hear the end of it!" Harry was trying to sound tough, but having a hard time not smiling.

"Well, do try to remember that I said I was gonna get you back. Think I forgot about it? Fat chance."

True. It was rare Louis ever forgot anything. Harry knew how good Louis was at teasing him; working him up, and then keeping him on the edge of orgasm without letting him climax until he decided the time was right. The result had always been like a cannon blast. Harry was hoping that would be his payback.

When Harry came back from the bathroom, he settled down on the couch, snuggled up to Louis.

"Now tell me about the time you watched," he asked, his eyes intensely ablaze.


	9. Chapter 9

"It was beautiful, really," Louis began. "I was young, very young. I think about twelve or thirteen, and I just happened upon it by pure chance. No, really," he stressed when Harry gave him an impish look.

"I wasn't lookin' for it. Truly I wasn't. Not that I would pass up the chance now, because I wouldn't, and I'm sure you know it," Louis poked Harry's nose with an index finger. "But this was very fortunate for me, because it helped me to understand me sexuality."

"You didn't know you were . . . "

"Gay? No. I just couldn't understand why all the lads talked about girls all the time. I knew I wasn't into that scene. Every time I wanked, it was with the thought of another lad in me mind, and I thought I was really jacked up or sommat."

"Like you were different . . . not normal?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, yeah, like that. So when I saw two guys in a house as I was walking home after dark one night, me interest rose. And I mean, it like, it _really_ escalated when I saw them kiss."

Harry was entranced, and couldn't tear his eyes away from Louis' for even a second.

"And?" he asked impatiently.

"Well, I kinda slipped behind a bush and watched. Their curtains were open and they were in the living room with the light on. It was too easy to stop and watch . . . "

Harry was completely into Louis' story, and Louis felt it all come back to him as if it had been yesterday.

"I was so turned on, so instantly, and I'd never felt that way with a girl . . . well, not much anyway. But this—this was a thousand times better than watching a naked girl, or even a girl with a guy. I think I knew right then that I was gay, in a foggy, unclear kinda way, because I knew almost nothin' about it. It terrified me, but it fascinated me even more, so I stayed and watched."

"What did they do?" Harry, perched on the edge of his seat, was looking like he was going to go mad if Louis didn't hurry up and tell him the rest.

"They were kissin' real heavy, like you and I when we're building up to makin' love. Me cock was like steel, Haz. It was like an epiphany for me. All at once I knew . . . but I wasn't sure _what_ I knew. Now I know that I was realizin' I wasn't straight, but it was so . . . blurry in me mind. I did think I was doomed. Doomed to a life of loneliness because I thought I'd never find anyone . . . like me. I thought that what I'd seen in that window must be really rare.

"The more they kissed, the more turned on I got. But that's all I got to see. They started unbuttonin' their shirts, and then disappeared into what must have been the bedroom, out of me sight. I was so frustrated, Harry. I wanted to see more, but I'll tell you one thing—that kiss they shared has stayed with me, and I can still see it in me mind.

"It was a couple years later that I finally got lucky again, after tryin' to spy on people as often as I could. I saw a guy and a girl kissin' on the street sometimes, or at school, but by that time, I knew what I _really_ wanted. And that was to see two guys together. So I was maybe fourteen when I saw the same two guys again. I made sure I always walked home that way, after seein' that kiss years before. And on this one night, I saw 'em kissin' again, on the couch. They had the curtains almost closed, but not quite enough. There was a little space that was just wide enough for me to see most of what was goin' on."

Louis paused, a wistful look settling over his handsome features.

"Tell me!" Harry's eyes were wide, and he had that wondrous look on his face that appeared when he was truly intrigued with something. Louis fingered a curl had had fallen nearly into Harry's eyes, smoothing it back, then continued as Harry fidgeted.

"They kissed for a long time, and then one of them started to undress, followed by the other one. I was so afraid they'd go into the bedroom, but they didn't. I'll never forget it. They got completely naked, and then gave each other blow jobs. First one, then the other. It was so fuckin' sensual. I was both horrified and enthralled when I saw that they didn't spit, or let the come drain out of their mouths. They _swallowed_ it. I thought that was so hot.

"And they were loving, Harry. Just like us. Afterward, they went into the bedroom again, holding hands. That was when I had to admit to meself that I would never want a girl in that way. I was young and horny all the time of course—and still am, but two guys turned me on _so much_ more than a guy and a girl. I wanted it for meself."

Harry felt his dick twitch. "Did you wank, love?"

"Hardly had to. Two strokes and end of story," Louis laughed. His hand landed on Harry's lap. Louis took the opportunity to rub the front of the fresh boxer briefs Harry had put on. Even after coming twice, Harry was half hard again, Louis' story having been the only stimulation.

"I'll be ready again in an hour," boasted Louis, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes at Harry. "Only one thing holdin' me back. Me ass hurts, just like yours does."

Harry burst into a frenzy of laughter. "No rule saying we have to do _that_ tonight. We both need a break. Plenty of other things we can do that'll be just as satisfying."

This brought on one of Louis' big, happy smiles, but it was shortly followed by a disgruntled pout. "We need to talk about Simon and management sometime soon."

"Only kissing, hugging, snuggling and lovin' allowed tonight, Boo Bear. We can talk all we want about Simon and company tomorrow, yeah? We have until three in the afternoon before we have to board the plane. This last night belongs only to us."

"I'm all for that," and Louis' smile, in all its glory, was back.

"I wish, Lou, that I'd had the nerve to make the first move with you. I had all kinds of elaborate, half baked plans in me head, but never got off me ass to try any of 'em. I think I wouldn't admit to meself that I was scared you might reject me. I'm so glad you were man enough to do it."

"I felt I had nothing to lose. The worst you could do was say no. But I'll say this—I would've been devastated if you had turned me away," Louis confessed. "So I know . . . the fear you must have felt."

"Babe," Harry's voice sounded like warm, sweet honey as he held Louis.

Harry was so soft. It amazed Louis how, at first, people would oftentimes be intimidated by Harry with all his tattoos—that was until you saw his baby face. And then the confusion went rampant. People didn't know whether to coo to him and pinch his dimpled cheeks or run away from him. Lou's face, however, wasn't as babyish as Harry's, and he had a talent for looking grim and thorny when he put on his churlish face. He was still convinced it was the only thing that had saved Harry from being a victim at the traffic signal that day. He shuddered with the thought.

 _His Harry. His Harry was wonderful_. Louis saw the depth of his lover's feelings shining in his eyes as Louis sat there and stared at him, hardly able to grasp the reality that they were really here together, and alone. Look at how much time they'd had to waste! Because of rules.. Rules had taken away their power to be who they really were, their immunity. It should have been like this every day—this kind of closeness, but instead they'd had to work alongside each other and pretend their hearts weren't splitting, that they weren't longing for each other, that they fought for every breath they took. He gave himself a mental shake.

He loved the way Harry always submitted to him. There was nothing confrontational about Harry, nothing dominant. But that made it all the better when Harry was aggressive romantically. It was so out of character, and Louis found it potent and seductive. Harry was not afraid to be forward with Louis, and it made Louis feel way beyond special. But enough of the melancholy, and on to better things . . .

"Tonight is gonna be just us, love," said Louis. "Forget about everythin' else." They grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, put their bare feet up on the coffee table and talked. That was one thing they'd never had trouble with—talking to each other. They had done it into the early morning hours infinite times. They hadn't done much of in the last couple of years, so now they set their minds to changing that and going back to their old ways.

In the past, no subject had been off limits. They were that comfortable with each other. And now, as the years melted away, they were almost back in the same place they'd been before. And frankly, giving it up again was not an option. They were going to have to confront Simon—Louis knew that, but he was in complete agreement with Harry to wait to talk about it until tomorrow. As Harry had said, the night belonged to them.

"We need to talk," Harry's face belied some kind of disturbance going on in his mind.

"What's wrong, Haz?" Louis sharp eyes took him in.

"Niall and Liam. We haven't taken them that much into consideration," Harry felt slightly sick, but he knew he had to voice it because communication between them was so critically important.

Louis' mind pored over this for a beat. And then he absorbed what Harry was trying to say. Their self-centeredness shocked and appalled him.

"Shit! At first I thought you meant us running away and leaving them hanging, but now I know what you're sayin.' We haven't thought about how our relationship will affect them!"

Harry nodded. "We've been right selfish. We shoulda talked to them before we took off like that."

Louis felt crushed—but not as crushed as Niall and Liam must be feeling. They were a band, and best friends as well. The four of them had always been inseparable, and then he and Harry had just run off without a word. Sure, he was aware that Niall and Liam were suspicious, and probably even more than suspicious—he was pretty sure they _knew,_ but it still didn't excuse their behavior. What he and Harry had done was totally self-serving.

 _What in the hell had he been thinking?_

"There's gonna be a _massive_ apology in me near future," said Louis. "I was so blind to it until now."

"And me as well. Tell me, Louis, did you have this all planned?"

Louis met Harry's intense gaze directly. "No. Honestly, I didn't. It was a full stop impulsive thing. The thought came to me head, and I acted on it. When I asked you to run with me, I hadn't been thinking of it for more than a minute at most."

"Wow . . ." Harry had no other words.

So it was settled—they'd somehow, when the opportunity arose, sit down and talk with Liam and Niall when they returned to board the plane.

After a nice, long conversation that covered music, their families, and how they planned to move in together (and they treated that as if it were an absolute), two hours had elapsed, and Harry was lying flat, a couch pillow under his head, Louis lying beside him, balancing on his side with just barely enough room to keep from sliding off the edge.

Louis wedged his leg between Harry's, and they shared a "look." Well, not really "a" look, but _**the**_ look. They had always had the rare talent to read each other, and it had returned in a flash, and each knew what the other was thinking most of the time.

Louis had been so hungry for Harry's eyes to be on him the way they had in the past. He had spent uncountable hours longing for it. He felt admired, desired. The best part was that now there was nothing for them to fret about. No one looking over their shoulders, so Harry stared to his heart's content. And Louis stared right back, meeting his gaze head-on, and the electricity pulsed through them.

The strength of it was so overpowering that Louis felt the prickling of tears that he did nothing to quell. Seconds later, he felt them begin to stream down his cheeks, and simultaneously, he felt the dripping of Harry's own tears on his hand, which was caressing Harry's neck.

There weren't any words. How could you express this . . . feeling? Besides, Louis feared his voice would crack if he tried to talk, so they continued to let their eyes do all the talking. Louis' leg shifted a bit higher between Harry's legs until his knee was touching Harry's crotch. Harry allowed his legs to fall open farther, demonstrating his trust.

Louis bent down and kissed all over Harry's forehead, cheeks, chin, jaw and neck. Harry closed his eyes and made a sort of miniature pleading sound. Louis knew what that sound meant. Thoroughly. They hugged, Harry's hands sliding up and down Louis' sides.

"Nice, innit?" asked Louis when he could trust his voice.

"Very. The best." Louis could swear Harry's voice was shaking.

 _Damn it! You don't take something like this away from people!_ Mentally, Louis nudged himself roughly. Enough of this further wasting of time by dwelling on the past.

Louis kissed Harry with abandon until Harry wiggled, trying to get ever closer. They were feeling the love in a big way, but also horny as hell, even though they'd made love for the second time just a couple of hours ago. Their cocks hard and aching, they tenderly rubbed against each other.

"That hip thrust you do on stage," Harry said dreamily. Louis was doing a slowed down version of it right now.

Louis pulled Harry's boxer briefs down, freeing that gorgeous, fleshy boner, then shimmied down on the couch, and his tongue greedily lapped up Harry's tangy pre-come. Harry was breathing like a woman in labor. His face was bright pink, closing his eyes like when Louis caressed his curls. Harry was good at savoring a feeling.

"Lou . . . Lou, I love you," he managed to whisper.

"And no one loves you as much as I do, Haz," returned Louis. "Except maybe your mum. But that's a different kind of love."

"It's funny . . . but I get hard just staring into your eyes, every fuckin' time," admitted Harry.

"You're aren't alone, mate. I do the same."

"Lick me some more _, please."_

Louis grinned happily, and obliged. He stuck his tongue into the slit and pressed, and Harry almost launched him off the couch with his gyrations. "Feels so good . . . ahhhh."

Harry reached down and touched the small of Louis' back, where he knew Louis was sensitive. He applied gentle pressure there, and then lightly rubbed small circles in the same spot. Louis had always loved it when Harry did that. He gasped in surprise that Harry would remember that little pleasure—or rather _big_ pleasure that it elicited. Louis' back naturally dipped rather automatically, grinding, because the body never forgets.

Louis' reaction caused Harry to feel himself release more pre-come, and Louis was right there to take care of it with his tongue.

"We'll make love, off and on, all night if you want," teased Louis, that wicked smile of his brightening up Harry's world.

"I'm not gonna turn _that_ offer down."

"Just no . . . butt sex," laughed Louis. "Your ding-a-ling is lots bigger than mine, so I suffer more afterward."

"Ding-a-ling!" laughed Harry. "I remember when I said that word in an interview, and you had to ask me what it was!"

"Funny . . . yeah, well, I had to figure it out meself because you couldn't think of another word for it. You were sat there sayin' 'Um' . . . . as you do so eloquently, and I had to say 'penis,'" Louis reminded him.

"Yeah, penis jokes!"

They loved to reminisce about all those memories, embarrassing or not. There were easily dozens of them.

Harry's fingers still pressed and rubbed lightly at the small of Louis' back. "I'm gonna fuck the couch if you don't stop that, Styles!" Louis complained.

"And the things we both sometimes did with microphones," Harry smiled, still lost in memories.

"We were so young and stupid and _horny._ No wonder management got upset. We should have toned it way the fuck down." Louis said, but wishing he'd done things differently wasn't going to help them now, he immediately reminded himself.

"You once even gave a slight visual hint about me giving you head when we were onstage, and it amazes me how the smallest of gestures was caught by the cameras. Makes me cringe to think about it now. Those fans don't let anything slip by," Harry droned on softly, a fond look in his eye, and Louis knew he'd be remembering those moments as an old man in his porch swing. Well, he hoped they'd be recalling them _together_ as old men on that porch swing.

"Yeah, they got close-ups of just about everything we thought we were so cleverly concealing."

"Yeah, we weren't exactly brilliant."

"And the time we were drinking a bit too much when we were at an awards ceremony (Louis couldn't remember which award it was because they'd won so many) and the trophy's head came off or somethin' like that, and I handed the head to you, saying, 'Harry's gettin' head.'"

Harry burst out into uncontrolled laughter much like he had when the incident had taken place.

"God, when I look back on that video, I see the red blotches on me cheeks, totally losing it with me raucous laughter, and you just stood there, all cool-like, waggling your eyebrows slightly at me, and then smirking at management," reminisced Harry.

"We were so repulsively obvious," said Louis, shaking his head in wonder.

"Disgusting, we were," agreed Harry. "You were a little shit, Louis Tomlinson. In fact, you still are."

"And always will be," Louis concurred.

"It was a thing with us though," Harry was philosophizing. "Fool around onstage, make dumb jokes, even insult each other somewhat, and then steal off somewhere to make out like mad."

" _You_ were the one making dumb jokes," Louis was quick to interject. "You and your knock-knock jokes!"

"You loved it, and you know it."

Louis sported his sassy look. "The only time I could safely look at you without being yelled at was when you told jokes, so I learned to tolerate 'em."

"That's just sad," Harry looked glum. "What they did to us, are _doing_ to us."

"We're gonna change that, remember? Also, no talking about it tonight! It can wait until tomorrow."

Harry's dimpled smile returned, and Louis' heart lifted and warmed.

"This night is ours," Harry smiled once again, and reduced Louis to a puddle of lust. One look, one touch. Harry was the only one who had ever been able to accomplish that.

Louis lowered his head from where it had been resting on Harry's stomach and coaxed Harry's cock between his lips again, touching it so delicately that Harry whimpered. Taking it deep into his mouth, Louis attempted to swallow it. He gagged because Harry was so big, but he was so turned on, and that was all part of it.

Harry's grunts grew louder in the next few minutes, Louis ruthlessly teasing him almost to the point of making him want to cry out, beg Louis to give him relief. Louis would take his cock clear down into his throat, then pull off with the most arousing popping sound and lick it, bottom to top, top to bottom, not letting Harry thrust. Harry's hips would be rocking, his cock seeking Louis' sucking mouth so he'd take it down to the base again. Louis did this many times, then looked up at Harry tauntingly.

"Pay back, remember?"

Ah, this was just what Harry had wished to get as his payback, but the torture was more than he'd anticipated, and was wearing him down.

"Okay, that was good enough payback," Harry panted. "Now work your magic."

 _In other words, get down to business._

"Funny, that. I was just thinking about blowing your mind as well as your cock."

"Well, you're gonna cause me to blow a gasket too if you don't suck me properly, _NOW!"_

The arousal was whipping around in Louis' middle. In the next second, he became so explosive that Harry very nearly came unhinged. Louis' lips were tight on Harry's cock, his cheeks hollowed with the strong sucks he administered, and then his throat was swallowing him up again. Louis hummed softly, knowing the vibration would undo Harry. He was right. Louis then allowed Harry to thrust without hindrance—for exactly thirty seconds.

Harry really objected this time when Louis pulled his mouth off yet again, verbally cussing Louis out. But Louis's glimmering blue eyes told Harry he had plans. Louis spun Harry around so Harry was sitting up properly on the couch, both his legs in front of him, feet resting on the floor. Harry was amazed at Louis' strength. He'd tossed Harry into position as if he weighed no more than a gangly puppy.

Louis then pushed Harry's legs, with bent knees, up to his chest and out, exposing everything Harry had to offer. Louis then dove between Harry's legs, his hot breath fanning Harry's flesh, his tongue eagerly licking and sucking Harry's balls, making Harry's eyes roll in his head. But the best was yet to come. Louis then dipped lower and touched his wet tongue momentarily to Harry's hole, giving Harry a barely-there lick.

Even though Harry had done this to Louis not long ago, it still caught him off guard. The feeling overwhelmed him, and a cry escaped him. This always made them both wildly passionate—both doing and receiving. Louis' tongue was pure gold, probing, licking, sucking. Harry could already feel the pull toward orgasm beginning.

When Louis' tongue entered him alongside one of Louis' fingers, which targeted Harry's prostate and rubbed at it, Harry erupted without control, squirting straight up into the air like a geyser. Louis continued to stimulate Harry with his tongue and finger, despite Harry's come ending up on the top of his head, the back of his neck, and on Harry's chest.

Grinding with a desperation, Harry rode out his climax, gasping, reaching down to stroke his cock madly for the last few spurts. Making wild animal noises and squirming, Harry was almost oblivious to his surroundings. Louis quickly latched onto his cock again, sucking the last bit of come from his lover, squeezing it to be sure he got it all.

Breathing heavily, Louis moaned, nursing Harry's cock languidly until it was mostly soft.

When he was able to get words off his tongue again, Harry said, "You sucking the last of me come out felt so good. So… naughty."

"Felt fuckin' good to me too," said Louis cheekily. "Happy days."

After washing up in the bathroom, they recovered, lying on the couch again, and somehow this time Harry was lying on the edge, as Louis had been before. They both knew that was a mistake, but were so caught up in the afterglow that they didn't pay it any mind. It didn't take long for Harry to get careless and fall off the edge before Louis could catch him, landing on the empty beer bottles that they'd deposited on the floor instead of the coffee table. The bottles clinked together loudly, but luckily, didn't break.

"Oouu . . ." whined Harry as he yanked the bottles out from under his back.

"Harry, do I have to watch you every second?" Louis sounded a lot like a scolding mother. "You're like a bull in a china shop!"

"I can't help it. I guess it's a thing—a permanent one."

And they both bursting out laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

Louis walking away—his rear view.

Yeah.

It was eye candy. Harry's chest tightened as his gaze zeroed in on Louis walking into the bathroom, after Louis had casually stated that he was fairly certain there was still some come on the top of his head, drying in his hair.

Harry hardly heard what he was saying. All he could focus on was Louis' butt. Louis had mentioned on many occasions that he thought it looked "girly," but how could he think that? Harry adored it. He thought it went perfectly with Louis' strong, muscular legs and arms. And that six-pack. And it was so unusual on a man, but it didn't detract from his attractiveness at all. In fact, it enhanced it.

And Harry wasn't the only one who felt this way. Girls lost it over Louis' butt. Harry had seen it featured on many One Direction boards and forums. They couldn't seem to get enough of it. Neither could Harry . . .

When Louis returned, towel drying his damp hair, Harry tried not to giggle. "So there was still some there?" he asked.

Louis nodded. "You're lucky I don't mind, Styles."

"C'mere my little hedgehog," and Harry pulled him into his arms.

"Why do you call me hedgehog, anyway?" Louis wanted to know.

"Well," Harry pondered the inquiry for just a few seconds. "It's simple really. Because a hedgehog is naturally sweet, soft and cute. But you have to watch those spines if you upset him, or _rub him the wrong way._ And that's you—exactly."

Louis looked satisfied with Harry's explanation.

"But know what?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"I think you need to be humped again. Remember . . . the deal was all night long."

When it came to sex, Louis never needed much persuading.

"Some frotting?" he asked.

"Yeah, but that's just the introduction. More good things to come."

"Fuck me, Harry," and the way he said it set Harry's heart and cock on fire. As if he were speaking words of endless love, not lust. You'd never know it was considered a dirty word with the way Louis' lips formed it.

It was something they were good at, the two of them. Even words that were routinely censored by much of the rest of the world could be uttered with such adoration, such gentleness. And many an "I love you" could be expressed in an extremely sensual way.

Harry kissed Louis nearly senseless, his lips moving expertly over Louis' lips, sucking, licking, whimpering into Louis' mouth with the excitement Louis' words had ignited in him. He drew it out, as Harry was so good at doing, keeping Louis on the edge, wanting more—always wanting more.

Louis was so beyond elated over Harry's reaction to this whole hare brained idea of running away. He'd known Harry had it in him. It had only been pushed back, stifled. He also knew without a grain of doubt that Harry felt just as overcome with love as he did. He wouldn't have followed Louis if he didn't.

 _Some things in life were worth taking a risk._

And this one was the best example he could possibly think of. It was now fixed in Louis' mind, and never again would he endure something so traumatic as what he and Harry had been through these last two years without doing something about it. Without fighting for their love.

He stared into the green depths of Harry's eyes when the very wet, needy kiss ended. In a husky voice, Harry said, "Come on. Reckon we'll be more comfortable in the bedroom."

"Funny, that. I was jus' thinkin' the same thing," said Louis, putting on a shy act. He _had_ to be putting it on, thought Harry. He couldn't possibly still be shy after all they'd already done.

Harry's arm around Louis' shoulders, they padded into the bedroom, or rather Louis shuffled in his fuzzy red slippers that he'd bought the first day they'd been here. They were as important to him as clothes. An indispensable part of his wardrobe. He had a pair at home too. He always wore them when he was indoors, which was where they were most of the time, and Harry found it disarmingly cute.

Naked now on top of the comforter, face to face with Harry on top, Harry questioned Louis.

"You aren't jus sayin' this, are you? I'm afraid you're too sore."

"No, I want you inside me."

"How deep?" growled Harry, putting on his sensual face, complete with pouty lips and half-lidded eyes that roamed over his lover as he held himself up on his hands, over Louis.

"Nice 'n deep."

The blood rushed hot and burning through Harry. He wanted it with a passion that didn't have an ending.

"You're bronzed," Harry said in reverence. "Wish I tanned that easily."

"Right, well you have so many attributes that having an exceptional ability to tan would be too much. You'd be too perfect, and therefore not flesh and blood," announced Louis with emphasis.

Harry giggled. "You're beautiful, but so opinionated, stubborn and fresh. Why do I love it so much?"

"Because I'm irresistible?"

Harry nodded. "Just like the song."

Louis grimaced. "Yeah, and midnight doesn't last forever. Dark turns to light."

"Don't you be talkin' about that, remember? We have tonight. Screw tomorrow."

Louis grumbled something under his breath, clearly irritated at the thought of having to face reality tomorrow.

"Your lips, so kissable, your kiss unmissable, your fingertips, so touchable, and your blue, blue eyes irresistible."

Harry sang it, actually _sang_ it, and Louis felt the heat roaring in his veins like a flame just like it always did when Harry sang. Even after five, nearly six years of hearing it. His voice was so one-of-a-kind, throaty; it caressed and it soothed, just like the voice he used when talking, only with so much more inflection and emotion.

This time Harry made love to Louis slowly. At least, he started out that way. The monumental urgency had simmered down to the point to where they could lavish each other with affection as they made love. Harry kissed Louis long and slow, deepening it when Louis cupped the back of his neck. He pasted wet, sucking kisses on Louis' neck.

They rocked together, Harry buried deep inside Louis, for what seemed like an infinity. Harry licked Louis' nipples, making him gasp. Then he rolled them between his thumb and forefingers, angling himself so that he occasionally bumped Louis' prostate while doing so.

Harry would slide in and out slowly and sensually, words of love sliding off his tongue. Then he'd speed things up a notch, becoming more demanding, and finally, he pumped hard and fast, grunting, his language becoming colorful, Louis' legs clamped around his back.

Harry insisted Louis look into his eyes, but Louis was already lost in their green depths anyway. They stared just as they did when out of bed. With softness and a devotion that had never vanished despite all the condemnation they'd faced.

Louis' level of arousal gradually rose, and Harry knew the exact moment his lover was beginning to build to his climax. Louis grabbed his own cock, and Harry pushed his hand away and grasped it with his own.

"You're close," breathed Harry.

"So are you," Louis shot back breathlessly. Yes, they knew each others' bodies and the signs of impending orgasm.

Again, Harry moved a little faster, stroking Louis' cock in kind, smearing Louis' pre-come over the head, and squeezing it softly, rubbing the top with his thumb while his fingers stroked the underside.

They were vocal, and Harry knew when Louis was actually coming because he felt the squeezing sensations and pressure on his cock. This set Harry off so that they came together, crying out words of love and lust and promises of forever.

They made love at least twice, maybe three more times that night. Taking breaks in between to clean up or get a drink, but always coming right back to bed. They were both finally so exhausted that they fell asleep just as the rest of Sweden was waking up.

Their sleep had been restless. Both had the knowledge of what the coming day would bring in the back of their minds, so they tossed and turned, fighting off vague, disturbing dreams.

Morning brought the sun, and they tried to ignore it—to continue sleeping up tight against each other, dismissing all else. Denial.

 _It was here. Their final day._ And not even a whole day, as they had to be at the airport by two o'clock for the three o'clock flight. By the time they reluctantly opened their eyes, Louis had a hard time pulling air into his lungs, and Harry was clearly distraught. Louis forced himself to get out of bed.

"I'm goin' out on the balcony to have a smoke," he said to Harry. Harry heard the tension in the lad's voice. Louis pulled on some pants and walked stiffly out to the balcony. Normally, Harry would have smiled because poor Louis was sore again, but he also saw the slouch of Louis' shoulders—something you hardly ever saw. Harry knew what it was, because he felt the same cloak of dread weighing him down. Apathy.

Harry dragged himself from the bed, yanking his own pants on, and stopped short of the sliding glass door to the balcony. Louis was standing there, looking straight ahead, cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke rising up in the air, ghostly and forgotten. One fuzzy slippered foot rested on the lowest railing of the balcony. Harry didn't know if Louis wanted him to join him, or if he wanted to be left to his thoughts.

Just then, Louis turned around to glance quickly inside, and Harry had his answer. Louis was looking for him. Harry walked out to him, snaking his hands around Louis' middle from behind, in a questioning manner, in case Louis dismissed him. He didn't think he would, even as distracted as Louis was.

Louis spun around without warning, startling Harry. "We have to talk to Simon," he said tersely, his jaw set.

Harry bowed his head, not able to look into those mesmerizing blue eyes at the moment. "I know," he barely got the words out. He was trembling, and feared Louis would see it.

Just then Louis' phone rang. The display showed it was Louis' attorney.

 _Shit._ He'd found something in the contract was Louis' first thought.

His attorney, Mr. Lawrence Meyers, wasted no time. "Good morning Louis. I have gone over your contract several times. I wanted to catch you well before you need to be at the airport. I want to assure you once again that I see no clauses or anything even alluding to Mr. Cowell having control over your behavior toward Mr. Styles. I was wondering if you need me to talk to Mr. Cowell?"

"Um . . . " Louis hadn't been expecting this call and it took him a moment to orient himself, pull his thoughts together.

"No . . . no, I don't believe so. There's really nothing you can say that I can't, yeah?"

"No, not really. I assume you've decided against simply 'disappearing.' But I wanted to let you know that I am available if you need me in the matter of convincing Mr. Cowell. I know he can be . . . shall we say, difficult?" Louis smirked. Boy, was _that_ an understatement! "Anyway, I'll be in the office today if you need any further assistance in this matter. Just call and I'll have them patch you through as quickly as possible."

"So you think we can call his bluff?" asked Louis bluntly.

There was a brief silence. "Uh . . . I suppose you can put it that way," the attorney replied. "There's another word for it, but we don't need to go into that. We both know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah," Louis knew exactly what Mr. Meyers meant.

"You're either allowed to be who you truly are . . . or you will advise Mr. Cowell that you'll be moving on?" Hearing Mr. Meyers ask the question so directly shook Louis up just enough for his hand holding the phone to start shaking. Harry reached over and steadied it, and Louis shot him a grateful look.

"Yeah. He won't wanna lose us," Louis said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

"That much could not be any truer. But do keep in mind that Mr. Cowell is a very clever businessman. I don't know him personally, but there is word out that he can be . . . well, rather brutal," advised Mr. Meyers. "Be careful."

"You're tellin' me. We don't have anything to lose," stated Louis. "Me and Harold. But Liam Payne and Niall Horan are a different story. We can't up and leave 'em, and that's the . . . agony of it all. If not for them . . ."

"I understand, Louis. But whatever you decide, please keep me updated. You can buy your way out of this contract if you feel you must."

Louis thanked him, disconnecting the call.

Harry's single word when Louis rang off was, "Blackmail."

Louis looked into troubled green eyes, and said, "That's about the size of it Harry."

Harry's breathing was rapid, and Louis picked up on it immediately. His eyes were also wide, and he looked deathly pale. "Lou, I'm scared," he said weakly.

"Do you want to go back to the way we were before?" Louis' voice had morphed into what sounded like a challenge.

"No, but—"

"No, but what?"

"Simon is powerful. He's sneaky and devious too. What if he finds a loophole?"

"I trust me attorney. And I'm not afraid of Simon," grumbled Louis. His statement wasn't completely true. Simon did intimidate him to a point. But Harry . . . Louis had never seen Harry so shaken.

"You heard him," Louis had had the phone on speaker. "We can buy our way out of the contract if it becomes necessary."

A minute later-"Harry, you're hyperventilating. Breathe deep and slow, not shallow and fast. Here, sit down." He practically pushed Harry down on the chaise lounge because Harry was stiff and wooden, looking like he would break in half if he attempted to sit down unassisted.

As Harry sat there breathing as slowly as possible, which wasn't very slowly, Louis reflected on how his attorney had figured out exactly what was going on. All Louis had told him was he and another member of the band had, or were thinking about, taking flight. He'd been vague, but evidently not vague enough. Mr. Meyers had put things together exceedingly quickly. The man knew it was Harry, not another member, and Louis didn't remember mentioning Harry's name when he'd made that first call. Maybe he had—he'd been nervous, and stress interferes with memory. Mr. Meyers also somehow knew the two of them were in love, and not only that, but that Simon was interfering with it.

Sure, Mr. Meyers had to know about the flirting and the rumors about himself and Harry, with it being in all the tabloids and online, but how did he know they wanted to come out, and Simon was thwarting it? He was a witty man, Mr. Meyers. He'd put the pieces of the puzzle together pretty effortlessly.

"I don't know. I don't know if I can do this, Lou," Harry's voice was a cross between a whisper and a whine, and it sent chills skittering down Louis' spine. Louis brushed away a crumb of irritation. _He'd_ been the one to put this in action, after all. He shouldn't be upset with Harry. But Harry was acting the same way he had when Simon had first told them to stop touching and staring at each other. That alarmed Louis. Harry had come close to a breakdown. They both had, actually. But at the moment, Louis was halfway stable. Harry was not.

"Go in and take a hot shower, Haz. Take some Xanax. I have some in me wallet for emergencies.

"I don't like taking drugs." That was true. Harry drank occasionally, but he was dead against drugs, even prescription ones, with the exception of something like antibiotics.

Louis dragged Harry to the shower, and sat on the toilet to be sure he'd be alright in there. Louis didn't want to think of Harry as a wimp, as Simon could threaten without even opening his mouth—just his piercing eyes were enough to reduce you to a bumbling idiot, not capable of forming a coherent sentence. But Louis could be a rebel when he needed to. He was _not_ going to let Simon get away with this anymore. And he couldn't do it alone. He needed Harry to back him up.

When Harry got out of the shower, Louis had one of the big, fluffy, plush towels ready for him. Harry dried himself and dressed, then went out onto the balcony without a word. Not typical—not typical at all.

Louis joined him. "I'm gonna go take my shower now. I'll be back in fifteen. Will you be okay?"

Harry just nodded, his pouty lips begging to be kissed. But this was not the time. He was flipping out, but quietly. Louis didn't like that. If Harry would only talk, maybe he, Louis, could be instrumental in helping him to face this.

"I'll talk to him alone, Harry. If that's what you want. If you'd feel better doing it that way . . . "

Harry still didn't respond. So Louis took his shower, hurrying as much as he could. By the time he was conditioning his hair, he heard Harry pacing. Another warning sign that Harry was in dire need of something. But what that something was had Louis mystified.

"It's my fault," Louis said to the ashen faced Harry when he had dried himself, brushed his teeth and hair and gotten dressed. "I should never have asked you to run with me. Now we're in a heap of shit. You're in a panic, and I'm just plain ready to kill Simon. Those are opposite emotions. We aren't together on this, and it'll only pull us apart. I shouldn't have gotten you involved. In the heat of the moment, I just wanted to be with you. I didn't think about what would happen when we returned."

Louis felt like he was rambling, but he had to get it across to Harry that he felt responsible for this mess they were in. A mess bad enough to have to call a lawyer to get advice.

Harry hugged Louis tightly—almost too tightly. Louis felt hot tears at his neck. What had he done to Harry? What had he done to the band? What had he done to _everyone?_

"I don't . . . I don't know what to do," desperation laced Harry's words, and he suddenly ran into the room, grabbing a hat and hoodie, and ran out the door into the hallway. Louis was so shocked that he just stood there for a few seconds. Where was Harry going? Louis held his palm over his forehead, not knowing what move to make. Follow Harry? Wait for him to come back? Give him time to process this? Harry surely wouldn't put himself out in public where he might be in danger . . . would he?

Louis kicked off his slippers and put on his trainers. He needed something more substantial than fuzzy red slippers to run in. He laced them up quickly, grabbing his own hoodie and wallet. But by now, several minutes had passed, and he had no idea which way Harry had run.

 _Stupid!_ Why hadn't he run after him immediately? He could have caught him, even in slippers, if he'd acted quickly. Louis rushed out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. Tapping his foot with testy impatience as the lift door seemed to take hours to open, and then descended at what seemed like a crawl, he knew that every second was taking Harry further away from him. . .


	11. Chapter 11

Louis was in good shape—he could run, and run fast. On top of that, he had endurance. Harry did not. But what the fuck good would that do him if he didn't know where Harry had gone? There were so many shops Harry could have ducked into- the nearby mall too, even the pasture where they'd escaped, alleyways, nooks and crannies every-fucking-where. Harry could be virtually anywhere.

Still, Louis ran, not even aware of the strange looks people gave him as he whizzed by. Which way should he turn? Right? Left? Or keep going straight? He could be running in the wrong direction altogether, as far as he knew.

After a few miles, he had to slow down. He'd almost tripped a few times while rubber-necking, with the unlikely hope of seeing Harry. He had pushed too hard instead of pacing himself. Now he was out of breath. He needed to get a grip and try to think rationally while he got his air back.

So he began hitting every business he came to, walking in and asking if anyone had seen a tall young man with long dark curly hair. All he got were more disdainful looks and negative answers. After asking dozens of people and not getting one shred of encouragement, not to mention any leads, the reserved Swedes making his endeavor to find Harry even more difficult, Louis started wondering if this was futile.

He must look a sight, his hair blown every which way, still damp from his shower. Kind of like that time 1D had gone on a roller coaster, having to answer a quiz while the thing was running, with cameras on them. If his hair looked anything like that, it was no wonder the already scornful Swedes were even more contemptuous and unwilling to help.

A few people recognized him, and that put him on edge, because if they recognized _him,_ they would definitely recognize _Harry._ And that brought up the danger factor for Harry again. His mind ran in endless circles.

What if Harry was already back at the hotel, wondering where Louis was? What if he was already miles from here, having taken a taxi? Louis sure hoped he wouldn't be foolish enough to take a bus. Louis knew Harry had enough money to get by for a while, and that knowledge helped somewhat. That was, if he'd remembered his damn wallet. But the panic was nevertheless building steadily. Harry might even have a room in a hotel by now. Louis just hoped his lover practiced caution and vigilance. He didn't want him out, walking the streets!

Two more hours convinced Louis that Harry wasn't going to be easy to find. He decided to go back to the hotel, in hopes that Harry would be there.

He wasn't. Louis looked around as if he might be able to find something that would give him a clue to Harry's whereabouts. But of course that wouldn't happen, as he'd _seen_ Harry split, and Curly had only taken time to grab a hoodie and hat. He picked up the pants Harry had worn yesterday and searched the pockets. No wallet. Good. At least Harry had had the good sense to take it. He must have transferred it to the pants he was wearing today when he'd gotten dressed. There was no evidence Harry had been back to the room since his departure either.

Shit! Louis' hand brushed against something in the shirt pocket Harry had worn yesterday. His cell phone! He'd left it behind! Now not only could Louis not call him, but Harry couldn't call _him_ either, or call for help if he needed it. Louis' panic stepped up to a new level knowing Harry had no phone.

All he could do now was wait. Wait and hope Harry came back. In the next hour, Louis made no less than thirty trips out to the balcony to comb the streets with his blue eyes, looking for the one person in the world he wanted to see.

Louis wanted so badly to hit the streets again, but with no clue where to go, it would be fruitless. He thought about going to a pub, bar, or whatever they called them here, and have a couple of drinks to try to calm down. He thought about taking a Xanax. He didn't do either one, however. He wanted his senses as sharp as they could possibly be in case he needed to go to Harry's rescue.

He'd forced Harry into this without even meaning to! He'd pulled a stupid little stunt, and it had escalated to something sinister. And now Harry was running—just as he had done metaphorically for the last two years, only now it was _literally._ He knew Harry wasn't running from him though. It was just the fear that had overwhelmed the Cheshire lad. Mild mannered Harry didn't do confrontation well at all, and the thought of facing Simon had him spooked to the point that he had lost all reason.

He hadn't really let Harry have a say in all this. He'd just forged ahead and taken the reins. He had only been his take-charge self, but with a massive screw-up-he hadn't been mindful of what Harry might want. Harry wanted a forever with him, yeah. He didn't doubt that. But he hadn't really given Harry a choice about confronting Simon. God, he felt like such a dick-head.

 _Oh my God! What time is it?_ He hadn't even looked at his watch when they had gotten up. A glance at it now told him they'd slept a little later than he'd thought. But it was no wonder- they'd been up until it had gotten light outside. It was already fucking noon! They had to be at the airport in two hours!

Louis grabbed his cell phone, turned it on, and punched in Liam's number, cussing himself out that his phone hadn't been on, in case Harry had tried to call him in the event Harry had had access to a phone. Louis and Harry had had their phones turned mostly off for the duration they'd been here at the hotel. They'd turned them off when they made love, and sometimes forgot to turn them back on.

"Tommo! I was gonna call if I didn't hear from you in an hour," answered Liam.

"Liam, I have a problem. Harry's gone missing. Have you seen him?" Louis was almost as sure as he could be that Harry wasn't with the other lads, but he had to ask the question. Holding his breath, he waited.

"No, Lou. Haven't seen nor heard from him." Liam waited patiently for Louis to spill it.

"Well, it's a long story, but we had a . . . moment. Not a misunderstanding or anything, but Harry panicked and ran. I mean _literally_ ran."

"From where? The hotel room?"

"Yeah. By the time I got me shoes on to go after him, I couldn't find him. He could be anywhere. I'm worried sick, Li."

"Yeah . . ." Liam's voice was full of sympathy. "I can only imagine. Think he'll be back in time to board the plane?"

"I honestly don't know."

"He was _that_ upset?" Liam was really alarmed now.

"Yes. I'll explain it all later. Right now I have to find him. Any ideas?"

"Have you tried asking 'round?"

"Everywhere. Businesses, people walking on the street, stores . . ." Louis' voice was cracking. "I ran like a crazed person and covered all the streets 'round here for miles. No one seems to have seen him. He's not in disguise. He had a hat and hoodie—that's it. I'm afraid someone will recognize him."

"Yeah, by now you'd think he'd know what a hazard it is for him to be out there."

"Especially alone!"

"Yeah, easy prey."

"Liam!"

"Sorry, it slipped out. He's the most vulnerable though, you have to admit it. The one the girls go craziest over. And he's never even been in a fight that I know of . . ." Liam was thinking out loud, but all it did was serve to make Louis even more anxious.

"Has anyone said anything? Management?" Louis tried to get Liam off the subject of poor Harry so he could compose himself.

"No, they're very hush-hush. I don't even know if anyone's called Simon yet. I bet they haven't, hoping Harry'll show up . . . who knows?" Liam sounded pensive. "Want me to get security to go out and look for him?"

"No! Harry would never forgive me if word of this gets out."

"But if it's for his safety . . . how about me and Niall, at least, come and look until we have to be at the airport?"

"Liam, thanks from the bottom of me heart, but no. We don't need to attract any attention."

Liam didn't say it aloud, but he was reflecting on how the world would certainly find out that Louis and Harry had disappeared together in the first place. Almost without exception, news like this always leaked. It would be a major broadcast.

"Okay, gotta go. I keep lookin' from me balcony, hopin' I'll see him down there. I don't know what else to do, unless I go pound the pavement again."

"Louis, what if Harry's not back in time for the flight? Will you still be here?"

Louis didn't hesitate on this one. "Absolutely not. I'm not boardin' that plane without Harry."

Liam had already known what the answer would be. He'd seen how much the both of the lads had suffered these last couple of years. "Call me—don't hesitate to call me, Tommo. If you need any kind of help, _anything._ _Please,"_ implored Liam.

"Of course I will, Li. And it'll be either both of us or neither of us at the airport. Just so you know."

"Can I tell Niall? About Harry's disappearance, that is?"

"Yeah, of course. But please, no one else."

"That should already be understood," said Liam firmly. He was reinforcing their friendship and support for Louis, no matter what.

As he hung up, Louis wondered what he was going to do with his time. He felt helpless, impotent. He couldn't just sit here, he couldn't watch the telly, and he couldn't walk the streets for fear Harry would come back and find him not here.

A rep from management called on Harry's phone, startling Louis terribly. Seeing who it was on the display, Louis didn't answer. He then checked the voice mail.

The guy sounded rattled. Louis knew him, but not well, and he felt sorry for the guy, who clearly was not accustomed to stars running away like this. His message simply stated that he hoped Harry and Louis would be at the airport, because it had been decided the entire crew would be heading back to California with Liam and Niall. There was a quiet desperation in his voice as he appealed to them to please show up as soon as possible, because he wasn't sure what the consequences might be if they didn't. Louis scoffed and stuffed the phone back in Harry's shirt pocket, not the least bit perturbed. That was petty compared to the urgency of finding Harry, and knowing he was alright.

Two o'clock came too quickly. Liam called at five minutes after two.

"They're ridin' me pretty hard," he said. "They don't wanna have to answer to Simon. But I'm not opening me mouth. Looks like he isn't coming back, yeah?"

"Looks like it," Louis was past caring about the flight, now that he knew that he and Harry would be left behind in Sweden. His only concern now was Harry. "One of the reps called me a little while ago, on Harry's phone. I didn't answer. He left a message about consequences or some such."

"Harry doesn't have his phone?" Liam sounded incredulous.

"You got it. He didn't take it with him. Liam, I'm so sorry . . . that you have to take the brunt of this."

"Don't worry, Lou. I told 'em I don't know anything except you're safe, and I'll keep sayin' it. As far as they know, we've only spoken once."

"Will they go through your phone records?" Louis felt the anxiety peaking. "I mean, to find out we've talked more than once?"

"Not now . . . maybe later, I don't know. If Simon orders it, I suppose."

"Invasion of privacy," said Louis.

"You know how Simon can find ways around things," Liam was so right, and that was one thing Louis was the most afraid of—Simon's wrath.

They said their goodbyes, and agreed that if Harry made it to the airport before they boarded, Liam would call, and Louis would get on the next flight.

"Be careful, Boo Bear. We love ya. You know that," Liam said as they prepared to end the call. Tears threatened to spill, but Louis, the soldier that he was, bravely told Liam with an even voice that he loved them too.

"Give Niallinator me love too."

"Sure thing. Remember, you're Superman. You'll save the day, one way or another."

When he got off the phone, Louis left the hotel. After all, it wasn't dark here until after 10PM. He wasn't just going to sit here when he could use that time to search for Harry. Pointless as it was, he had to feel like he was _doing something._

Harry ran out of steam pretty quickly, not being accustomed to running. He'd made a sharp turn between two buildings soon after he exited the hotel, and continued on, turning randomly here and there, hoping Louis wouldn't be able to track him down. Good thing this wasn't the old West. He'd be terrible at covering up his tracks. But with concrete streets, it was easy to get lost in the crowd, and the chances of Louis finding him, he knew, were slim.

He had no idea whatsoever what he was going to do. All he knew was he was knackered, hungry and didn't want to get on that plane. The only way to avoid that was to keep moving. He was afraid to stop even long enough to eat, knowing how fleet and clever Louis was. He could just see Louis getting lucky and finding him sitting in a café, taking out ten minutes to eat. So he grabbed something on the run, and ate as he wandered, wondering where he should go, what he should do.

The panic ebbed and flowed in waves. It would hit its pinnacle, and then lower a bit, but never went away entirely. Harry wasn't sure exactly when he'd decided not to go to the airport. He wasn't even sure he'd made a conscious decision at all. He'd looked at his watch at 1:40, but made no move to hail a taxi. So that was that.

He was pretty sure Louis wouldn't leave without him. But then, there was such a thing as pressure, and management would surely pour it on. No one, especially management, would want to face Simon after this.

Harry knew Louis would call Liam or Niall to find out if he was at the airport. Louis wouldn't be caught dead at the airport unless he planned to board the plane. He was too smart for that. Harry couldn't help wondering why Louis hadn't tried to call him. Then he patted his pocket, only to find his cell phone wasn't there! Oh shit.

When it was past three, Harry knew it was safe to go back to the hotel where Louis was. That was, if Louis was still there. Harry had no idea if everyone else would board the plane or not. Would they go on without him? Or stay, hoping to locate him? Would Louis be desperate enough to find Harry that he would tell them where the hotel was? Well, it didn't matter anyway. If someone were there, waiting for him, he'd go willingly, and face Simon and any repercussions.

His anxiety level was at an all-time high, and he couldn't shake it. He _needed_ Louis. God, how he needed him! He had no choice but to go back to the hotel and tell Louis how sorry he was for bolting—that he hadn't been in his right mind.

The hoodie obscuring most of his face, he must look like someone who was up to no good, but he didn't, at all costs, want to be recognized. He'd had the presence of mind to remember Louis' warning. He crept along, like a thief in the night, even though it was light, hugging walls of buildings, trying to look like he was preoccupied and in a hurry—the kind of person who would tolerate no nonsense. Louis was good at that. Harry, not so much. But he'd nevertheless learned a lot from Louis.

His heart thudding wildly in his chest, he approached the hotel. Nothing looked different—no more cars than usual were parked in the lot and in front. No limos. Good. He glanced up at the balcony, half expecting to see Louis up there, scouring the street with those bright blue eyes. A stab of disappointment poked sharply at him when he saw no such thing.

He slipped his hand in his pocket and realized he didn't have a key to the room. Sighing, he went up the elevator and knocked on the hotel room door. No answer. No sound came from within either. The door was locked.

So he went down the elevator again, and to the front desk. He only had to think for a second to remember what Louis had registered under. Kevin Pigeon. Who could forget that? He told the guy his friend had gone shopping, and had the key, so he was unable to get in. The guy handed him a spare which Harry promised to return as soon as he got the door open. If Louis wasn't there, he'd return the key and get a room elsewhere. Louis must not have checked out, however, since the guy passed over the key without blinking an eye.

Harry knocked once more, just in case Louis really was inside, and then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Louis?" Silence. Everything looked pretty much as it had when he had fled this morning. Relief flooded Harry like a giant wave that almost knocked him over with its force. Louis hadn't gone to the airport!

There was evidence of him everywhere, and Harry almost burst out into a sob. Louis' clothes thrown carelessly here and there. It was comforting beyond words. The elation lifted Harry high.

And . . . there were Louis' red fuzzy slippers on the floor.

Harry wanted so badly to hug Louis, just hold him close, and the agony of him not being here was unbearable. So he picked up one of the slippers, holding it up to his face and rubbing its softness against his cheek. Louis' favorite color was red. The tears again threatened to run down his face.

The bathroom looked the same, nothing was missing there either, so Harry knew for certain that Louis had not left. Louis was simply out looking for him. Or . . . maybe getting drunk, thinking Harry wasn't ever coming back.

An hour crept by, and then another. Harry couldn't tolerate another second of this. All he had been doing was pacing and running his hand through his hair, over and over. Going out onto the balcony, imagining sometimes that he saw Louis, but when the person drew nearer, it never was. Louis could be very near by, in one of the bars. Or walking the streets. Harry couldn't bear that thought, so he left again, hoping to find him, even though he knew in his heart it was best to stay put, as Louis would be back sooner or later. In his distraction and haste, he forgot to look for his cell phone. He also forgot to return the key to the front desk.

Louis arrived back at the hotel only twenty minutes after Harry had left. His gaze swept the inside of the room, and the only thing he noted was that one of his slippers seemed to be further away from the other one than it had been before, or so he thought. Who knew—with as fast as he'd left the room this morning, he could have flung it without even noticing.

Just to be sure Harry hadn't been here, he checked Harry's shirt pocket again, and the cell phone was still there. Well, he had his answer. It looked like Harry wasn't coming back, or he would have shown up by now. Louis knew Harry- his habits, his routines, even his thoughts. He'd lived with the guy for almost six years. First the X-Factor house and then the house Simon had moved them all into. Well, there would be no more of that when they got home! If Harry came back, he and Harry would get their own place. He tried to calm his rising panic with those thoughts. But it only worked for a short while.

Even knowing it was a little on the dramatic side, he had to admit there was no guarantee he would ever see Harry again. The lad was not independent the way Louis was, not street savvy either. He'd come to X-Factor when he was only sixteen, never having lived away from home. He hadn't been on his own in all these years, the other lads practically being his family, and now here he was, in a foreign country, at the mercy of any thug who might come along and try to take advantage. If someone recognized him, they would know how rich he was, and . . . Louis couldn't even finish the thought in his mind.

Just then, the room phone rang. Louis almost jumped out of his skin. He picked it up, a heavy feeling in his chest almost choking him.

"Yeah?"

"Um, Mr. Pigeon?" asked the man at the desk.

Louis almost cracked a smile, but wasn't quite able to muster one.

"Yeah, speaking," he answered.

"I don't know which one of you it was, but one of you asked for a spare key—said the other one was out shopping and he couldn't get in. He promised to return the key, and he didn't. Was that you?"

Louis gasped. "Um . . . no, it was me friend." Thank God, Harry had been there!

"How long ago was this?" he asked.

"About half an hour ago. Do you have the key?"

 _Damn! Fucking hell!_

Harry had just been here half an hour ago! And now, now he was on the streets again!

"No, no I don't have the extra. Me friend must've forgotten to return it. As soon as I see him, I will personally return it, straight away," he promised.

The man heaved a long suffering sigh, grumbled "Alright," and hung up.

At least now Harry knew Louis hadn't left on the plane. That was something.

 _I'm gettin' tired of this hotel room tag, Styles! I swear, I'm gonna beat your fuckin' ass when you get back here!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Okay, this is getting massively ridiculous._

Another hour had gone by, and no sign of Harry. It was five o'clock, almost dinner time, and Louis had eaten nothing all day. He felt weak and shaky, so he grabbed one of the frozen dinners they'd picked up the other day and nuked it in the microwave. He grabbed a beer while he was at it.

He was not going to leave again. He was going to wait for Harry if it killed him. He'd just keep drinking beer until Harry showed up. Hopefully it would mellow him out enough to stay put.

It worked. He ate the frozen dinner on the balcony, both his and Harry's phones arranged neatly beside him on the chaise lounge, a beer in his hand, trying not to tremble with anticipation of Harry showing up with his cute little dimpled face.

 _It'll be alright. Harry will be back any minute now._

Harry was now having second thoughts. Louis was probably pretty pissed at him for the way he'd taken off this morning. And why wouldn't he be? He shouldn't just assume Louis would be happy to see him. Maybe he _should_ go ahead and get a hotel room just for tonight, and show up tomorrow, when Louis had had some time to cool off. It was the safest thing to do, considering Louis' temper. Oh, Louis wouldn't hit him or anything, but his tongue was just as lethal. He could give you a dressing down that would garner even Simon Cowell's approval.

Snarky, sassy Louis. His love. Harry, as much as he was wilting on the inside from being away from him, knew Louis would give him no peace. But the ironic thing was, being with Louis—even with no peace, was better than being without him.

With Louis' past record of not being shy about voicing his opinions and making Harry feel guilty was what clinched the deal in the end. Another twelve or sixteen hours away from Louis would only benefit the two of them.

Hey wait! He could call him! He'd know right away, from the sound of Louis' voice, if it was okay to go back to the hotel. But his luck failed again. No phone. He'd forgotten all about it when he'd been there. He'd been too busy snuggling Louis' fuzzy red slipper.

Once he had secured a room down the street and about half a mile from the one Louis was in, Harry found himself sorely tempted to call Louis from the room phone _. No!_ He admonished himself. Then he tried to ignore the damn thing. It wasn't going to work. Every time he passed it to use the bathroom, or fiddle with the telly that had less than stellar reception, there it was, sitting there on the end table, mocking him. That damn phone wouldn't give him any slack. He finally shoved it under the bed. Why had he been dying to call Louis a little while ago, and now had lost his nerve?

When he went to take a shower, there was soap, but no shampoo. That's what happened when you got a cheap room. At least the room Louis was in had more amenities _and_ room service. He'd been used to four and five star hotel rooms that supplied just about everything. He wasn't going to wash his hair with soap. His hairdresser would murder him. Luckily he did have a comb in his pocket, but it was almost impossible to comb out the tangles he'd gotten from all the running he'd done today. He felt like he smelled like car exhaust and pavement in addition to the sweating he had done. No conditioner either. Damn! So he just soaped up his body and rinsed his hair thoroughly. When he stepped out of the shower, there was no improvement. His hair was looking a lot less like Harry Styles, and a lot more like Beyonce.

He needed some of that smooth, creamy lightly scented shampoo Louis had bought, and the rich, silky conditioner. When he closed his eyes, he could almost smell it in Louis' hair. And when _both_ of them smelled like it—well, there was nothing sexier in this world that Harry could think of. It smelled slightly different on each of them, and when the aromas mingled—Harry felt himself getting hard. You would think he was still sixteen. His hormones had hardly calmed at all, and as long as Louis was around, he doubted they would _ever_ calm down. It was both a blessing and a curse. 

Louis' cell rang, almost causing him to catapult right out of the chaise lounge.

"Louis, my Boo-Bear. How are you doing? Enjoying Sweden?" his mum had called a couple of times before, and he'd cut the conversation short, saying he was practicing with the lads. This time he knew he had to act a little more like a son, and talk to her longer than three minutes. She, of course, had no idea he'd fled with Harry. Not yet.

He knew that almost as soon as the plane landed in L.A., word would be out that he and Harry had not come back with the other lads. And then his mother would be frantic. No more turning off his phone. His mother knew he at least had a crush on Harry, if not the whole story, as did Anne, Harry's mum, but she would still be worried when she heard the news. She'd seen the lads' heartache, and he didn't want to upset her unnecessarily. She'd be upset soon enough, but he had to take one thing at a time. Right now it was trying to get Harry back and make things right with him.

This conversation lasted about ten minutes. Simple chatting about the concert, what Sweden was like; common stuff he'd talked to her about after every concert they'd had. With a little ingenuity, he finally got her off the phone, saying the other lads needed his opinion on something. He felt bad about it, but he needed to keep the line open in case Harry tried to call. He didn't want one or the other of them on hold. Evidently, she didn't realize the other lads were in the air, on their way back to America. But with the time differences, that was understandable.

Lots of "I love yous" later, he rang off. Then Stan called. Again, his eyes had shot to the display in anticipation, his heart dropping to his knees when once again, it wasn't Harry.

Stan was cool, as always. He was eagerly waiting for the concert to be downloaded to Youtube. Stan had to be the most awesome friend in the world. He accepted Louis being gay, even though he himself wasn't. And it never interfered with their friendship. Stan was not judgmental in the least. He was easy going, kind of like Harry, and Louis was more controlling, taking charge naturally, so the friendships worked out with everyone being happy, or at least adjusting. Harry and Stan were both followers, and Louis was an integral leader. Stan apparently also didn't realize that Louis should be on the plane, and so Louis didn't have to explain, although he would have if Stan had asked, because he trusted Stan not to leak a word to anyone.

After a five minute conversation, and the call ended, Louis drank another beer, wishing to hell Harry had taken his phone. He really needed to know if Haz was alright. Now that he'd talked to Stan and his mum, he was going to let all other calls go to voice mail, with the exception of Harry, Liam and Niall, of course. And his mother, because he would need to console her when she heard he and Harry were still in Sweden.

Louis stopped at three beers. The last thing he needed was to be sloppy drunk if or when Harry came back. He wanted his wits about him so he could properly explain that he realized he'd been too pushy about confronting Simon. He needed Harry's trust more than anything. While he knew he'd never really lost it, he needed Harry to have absolute faith in him when it came to challenging Simon.

He'd been so heedless of Harry's feelings. Harry had thought they'd have a bit of time away alone together—he hadn't expected this mess to be dropped on his head.

Trying to get his mind off Harry, Louis thought about where they stood with management right now.

Oh God, he didn't know what he was doing! He was so ignorant in terms of the law and contracts. But, he tried to tell himself, that was what his lawyer was for. Mr. Meyers would help him through this. That was why Louis had chosen his legal representative so carefully—in the event of a situation such as this.

Still, thinking of how little experience he had with legalities, Louis felt there was a ton of weight resting on his shoulders. What if Mr. Meyers didn't handle it correctly, or even worse, was intimidated by Simon himself? 

"Shit!" When Harry removed his wallet to lay down on the bed, he found the hotel key and realized he hadn't returned it. Now what? He couldn't risk returning it and having Louis see him from the balcony. The office was almost directly below the room. He'd promised the guy, though, and Harry didn't break his promises.

Man, he was gonna look like absolute shit tomorrow morning. His hair was bad enough now, but after sleeping on it all night, it would be positively frightful.

Harry tried to tell himself he was too lazy to get a taxi or walk to the nearest grocery store, which was half a mile away for shampoo and conditioner. And he certainly was embarrassed for anyone to see him with his hair this way. Even a hat wouldn't help enough with the mile-high frizz. If word was out that he was still in Sweden, there might be paps in the area, and if he had his picture snapped looking like this . . . holy shit! He'd never hear the end of it. It would be on the covers of all the tabloids, and probably on the telly too.

A thought came to him, but no . . . it was absurd. Louis had the shampoo and conditioner. Louis would be showering in the morning, and if Harry got back early enough, Louis would never know it had been missing. He had to return the key anyway, so why not go to the hotel room before he returned the key to the night clerk, to get the shampoo and conditioner? He'd have to wait until Louis was sleeping, but he could probably slip in and out without Louis even knowing he was there. Louis was a deep sleeper. It was stupid though. What if Louis hit him over the head with something, thinking he was a burglar?

How he arrived at his decision was preposterous, but in the final analysis, he decided it was better to possibly be attacked by Louis than to be seen in a store with outrageously out of control hair. That's what he told himself. But he knew that if he were to be perfectly honest, what was bizarre was that Louis' hotel room was no farther away than the nearest grocery store. Harry suspected he was giving himself excuses to go to Louis' hotel instead of the store.

Midnight found Harry scurrying along the street, hoping Louis would be asleep. He couldn't wait until too late because then he'd wake up late and Louis would discover the hair products were gone. 

Louis had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge out on the balcony at about ten o'clock. He'd been fussing over Harry not being back, watching the street until his eyes stopped focusing. It would be so nice if Harry showed up and had a couple of beers with him, and they could talk. But without even remembering it happening, Louis was out for the count. The beers had probably contributed to it.

He woke with a jolt. He wondered what had pulled him so abruptly out of his peaceful, vague dreams. Looking around, disoriented at first, Louis realized he was still on the balcony, in the chaise lounge. Had it been a noise? Or just a feeling that had awakened him?

An eerie sensation sent prickles up the back of his neck. Something wasn't right. But he couldn't pinpoint it.

Just then, he thought he saw a shadow darken the balcony railing briefly, coming from . . . where? Inside the hotel room? It seemed almost as if something was moving in there, going from the right to the left.

Oh, knock it off, Tomlinson. Probably just a cat or something, prowling around, and not coming from inside the room at all. Or just his imagination. However, his heart picked up its quickened pace again when he heard a dull thump. Now _that_ hadn't been his imagination. He had to face the fact that it sounded like it was coming from inside.

Louis was not a coward. He might not be as big as Harry, for example, or Liam, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in brawn. Brawn as in moxie, vigor, energy, power. A couple more inches in height and twenty pounds more and he'd be the same size as Harry. Well, maybe two and a _half_ inches, as Harry was right between five eleven and six feet tall. Harry was clumsy though, and Louis was graceful, catty and fleet on his feet, a distinct advantage. So his mind was eased somewhat that this was happening to _him_ and not Harry.

He drilled himself with these facts silently to give him the confident and assured attitude he needed when he faced whatever was inside the room, as it was now unnervingly obvious something _was_ moving in there. He could see the shadow as he kept his back to the wall to the right of the glass door, turning his head to peer inside. A human shadow. It was moving tentatively, as if the person was apprehensive and maybe not as daring as an intruder would commonly be.

Good . . . that was in Louis' favor. He could put on a bad boy act despite whatever fear he may be feeling on the inside. He was good at hiding his trepidation. But if the man had a gun, he'd be at a definite disadvantage. Should he even go in there? He thought briefly of trying to find a way to crawl down to the ground, where the hotel office was readily accessible, and having the night clerk call the law for help.

But, the problem was, Louis loved a challenge more than he feared danger. He had already decided, in spite of his thoughts of evasion, that he would find out just what this ballsy son of a bitch wanted.

Two things about entering the dark hotel room: One good, one bad. Good for Louis because he'd have the advantage of darkness. Bad for Louis because the intruder would have the same advantage. What to do? Go inside, of course. Was it ever really in question? No.

As Louis watched his progress, the intruder was headed straight for the bathroom. Why the bathroom? Did the intruder not know the lay-out of these rooms? What was of value in a bathroom? Nothing Louis could think of. He waited until the guy disappeared into the bathroom, and then made his move. He opened the glass slider soundlessly and stepped inside with stealth and composure that belied his thundering heart.

Louis inched along, afraid to engage any speed, as he might alert the intruder to his approach, and afraid to go too slow for fear of the intruder leaving the bathroom and the two of them coming face to face. Louis needed to catch him off guard. It wasn't completely dark, but dark enough to only be able to see shadows. Sliding along the wall, Louis felt like a ninja, preparing to attack.

He heard the slightest of sounds and caught a glimpse of the intruder entering the shower and emerging with something in his hands.

 _The shower?_ What the hell would a burglar find of interest in a shower? Maybe he was looking for drugs. But still—who keeps drugs in a shower? Louis' interest was piqued, but his nerves were frayed and ready to break. The suspense was overwhelming. Louis knew that when his nerves took over, his inclination would be to blindly charge the guy. Kind of like the "get them before they get you" line of thinking that Harry had mentioned Dr Phil talking about.

As the shadow man emerged from the shower, coming toward the door of the main room, Louis was plastered up against the wall, motionless. He tried to decipher what was in the man's hands. One thing was for sure—it was no gun.

It was now or never, and Louis embraced it. He leaped at the figure from the side, who promptly dropped whatever he had been holding. Louis hit him broadside, quickly following him to the floor, the intruder face-down, placing his knee in between the intruder's shoulder blades and wrestling for his hands so he could pin them behind his back.

"Wait! Wait! Lou! Is that you? It's me!"

Louis froze.

 _Harry! Damn it to hell, it was Harry!_

"You _bastard!"_ cried Louis, immediately letting the younger man go and flipping on the light switch.

"I should've said, 'who's that shadow holding me hostage,'" quipped Harry.

"Now is no time for lyric jokes!" Louis was more than perturbed, he was livid. "You scared the living shit outta me! I thought you were a burglar or sommat! And what were you doin' in the loo anyway?"

Harry gestured toward the shampoo and conditioner bottles on the floor, rubbing his arms absently. Louis had one hell of a grip.

"You come in here and try to steal me shampoo and conditioner?" Louis asked incredulously.

Then he saw Harry's hair, and his question was answered immediately. As angry as he was, he was reduced to hysterical laughter that ended up being helpless giggles as he rolled on the floor next to Harry.

"Wassa matter?" Harry had never seen such a drastic transformation in Louis. He'd gone from furious to laughing his head off in one second flat.

Louis couldn't even talk. All he could do was wait until the uncontrollable laughter stopped bubbling up in his throat. When he was finally able to gasp for breath, he said, "Your hair!" pointing at it needlessly, because Harry was already more than aware of how unkempt it looked.

"Major frizz! You practically have an afro!" Louis grabbed the shampoo and conditioner bottles and lobbed them back into the bathroom carelessly

"So . . . you were gonna steal me shampoo and conditioner, yeah?" he grilled Harry.

"Well, not really. I was just goin' to borrow them until the mornin.' Figured I'd get up early and bring 'em back before your mornin' shower."

"Well, ha, I caught ya, you little shit!" Louis shot back. He just couldn't resist.

"Wait—remember, _you're_ the little shit!" Harry reminded him.

Ignoring his comment, Louis looked serious again. "So you have a room elsewhere?" His voice had adopted a hard tone. "After bolting on me, and makin' us both miss the plane?"

"About that, Lou. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was sincere, Louis knew that much. "I panicked. I've been havin' anxiety attacks and all."

"Why'd you run though? We could've talked about it. Don't you trust me enough, Haz?" Louis' voice emitted real hurt.

Harry was now rubbing his side, where he had hit the floor.

"Of course I trust you. I was jus' bein' daft. I'm afraid of Simon, I guess."

"Hey, did I hurt you when I tackled you?" Louis had observed Harry rubbing his side.

"Let me see," Louis lifted Harry's shirt. "Jus' rug burn."

"I didn't mean to scare ya either, Lou." Harry was now rubbing his shin.

"What happened there?" asked Louis.

"I bumped me shin on the coffee table on the way in."

"So _that's_ what that thud I heard was. You're too clumsy to be a burglar, Harry. I think we better not give up our day jobs," Louis smiled.

"Where were you when I came in? I didn't see a lump on the bed."

"Out on the balcony. Had a few beers and fell asleep on the chaise lounge."

"Forgive me?" Harry's gorgeous green eyes implored.

Louis shrugged. "I guess, but I don't like doin' it."

"Forgivin' me?"

"Yeah. What you did was pretty dodgy. You knew I wouldn't leave you."

"I was pretty sure you wouldn't, but I would have understood if you did."

"Harry, me love. I finally got you back just to lose you again! Don't you see that? I was so damn worried."

"I was careful, Lou. Just like you told me to be. Kept me hoodie around me face as much as I could, and walked fast, actin' no –nonsense, like you do. I was actually kinda scared to come back right away, man. You and your temper and all."

Harry hugged him then. He just couldn't help himself.

I'm buzzin' that you're back, but I'm still mad at you," Louis grumbled, returning the hug reluctantly.

"And you have a right to be. Did you hear from management?"

"Yeah, but I didn't answer the phone. A rep left a message. He was spooked, I could tell."

Harry nodded, fully understanding what the poor guy must have been feeling. Leaving the two of them in Sweden. He would be hearing it from Simon, big time. Might even lose his job.

"I talked to Liam again too. Told him either we'd both be there, or both absent. At the airport, that is. Liam knows you went missing. I'll have to call him when they land and let him know I found you."

"God, what I've put you through," Harry looked too close to despair for Louis' comfort.

"All I really want, Harry, is no regrets,"Louis said softly.

"Lyrics again," responded Harry. "Sometimes they come in handy."

Louis allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "But I mean it Harry. If we're here a little longer, I think we ought to make it worth it. After all, I'm Superman, and I have to save the day."


	13. Chapter 13

Sipping beer, kissing, taking turns sitting in each other's laps and talking comfortably together, time was forgotten.

Louis suddenly sat up straight." Oh my God, I've gotta call Liam _now!"_ he cried. "It's two-they should be touching down any time, if they haven't already."

"Okay," docile Harry, his eyes following Louis' movement to collect his phone and call Liam, was trembling just a little. Anxiety again—he didn't want Louis stressing out over this. Harry's bolting had only served to complicate things, specifically facing Simon. Louis didn't need the added worry. He shouldn't have to conquer this thing alone. It ate at Harry.

Even after Louis' Superman saving the day comment in his effort to reassure Harry, Harry was feeling that he should be more accountable and less of a weakling coward. Leaving things solely in Louis' hands was a cop-out. Harry needed to step up and be a man.

"Want another beer, sexy?" he attempted to flirt as Louis scrolled to Liam's name and hit the "call" button.

Louis smiled and jerked his thumb toward the refrigerator. This did wonders for Harry's nerves as he fetched a beer for each of them, determined to provide the support Louis needed from now on. Louis was looking relaxed, and Harry suspected it was because the two of them had made a decision that would free them. Harry returned to Louis' side right as Liam answered.

"Good timing. We just got here. We're in a limo, and our baggage is being picked up. No word from anyone as of yet, but I know they have to call Simon soon," said Liam.

"Okay, well ring me when you know anything."

"I will. And I'm guessing you found Harry?"

"How'd you know?" Louis asked, puzzled.

"I know you, Tommo. I can hear the relief in your voice. I hope everything is okay now?"

"Yes, things will be fine. I know we have a show coming up in three days. We'll either talk to Simon on the phone or when we get back to L.A."

Liam still didn't know about Louis and Harry's plans to give Simon the ultimatum, and Louis decided to wait until they were with the other lads personally. It would be shocking for both Liam and Niall, to say the least.

When Louis had said his goodbye to Liam, Harry went ferreting around and found his missing phone in his shirt pocket.

"Wanted to call you, but didn't have this," he said sheepishly." I was here, in the room earlier. Did you know that?"

"No, not until the front desk guy called and asked why the key hadn't been returned."

Harry's face went red.

"Shit. I've gotta go give it back to him now. I almost forgot again!"

"Just don't take off on me again, Styles," mock warned Louis.

Harry smiled and rushed to the elevator, eager to get back to Louis again. He'd check out of the other hotel room tomorrow morning. But tonight, he wanted to be nowhere but with Louis.

"Weird, that," mumbled Harry to himself as he returned from handing the key off to the very disapproving night clerk. Apparently, the daytime guy had told him of the irresponsible guys upstairs that couldn't be trusted to simply return a key. Harry didn't know that the guy also thought his hair looked a little like Janis Joplin's, making the moment all the more cumbersome.

"What's weird?" asked Louis, lounging on the couch, and happier to see Harry than he was going to admit.

"How hotel desk guys, clerks, or whatever they are, can be so condescending. What tossers." Then Harry's eyebrows raised in realization.."Hell, no wonder! I forgot how me hair looks!" Harry looked thoroughly humiliated. "I've gotta go wash me hair."

But before he went, he dropped to his knees in front of Louis on the couch, took his face in his big hands and kissed him rather sensually.

"Missed it, missed your lips," Harry whispered. "Just in the time I was gone to the front desk."

"Why kiss me now? Why not wait until after you wash your hair?" asked Louis in a teasing tone, trying to conceal his desire. "We've been kissin' all night."

"I _have_ to kiss you now, else I'll become irrational, a crazy man."

Harry? A crazy man? The thought made Louis grin. It was hard to picture.

"Oh, and by the way, I cuddled one of your slippers when I came by and you weren't here," admitted Harry shyly.

"You did?" Louis knew this made Harry feel vulnerable, and he loved that Harry had confessed something so private and sappy.

"Also, I can smell the beer in here. I don't know why, but for some reason, it's makin' me horny."

Louis let loose and doubled over in laughter. "You say some of the damndest things, Haz. Why would the smell of beer make you horny?"

"Lowers inhibitions, it's sexy, making public sex more likely," Harry waggled his eyebrows and then began to stroll toward the bathroom to wash his hair, giving Louis a chance to ponder it. Lord knew, Harry didn't need public sex for Louis to turn him on until he was blue in the face (and the balls) but the idea was enticing nonetheless.

They didn't have to get back to the states for two more days. The third day, Friday, they'd be on the stage again. And by then, they would have talked to Simon. It was all happening so fast.

"Wait a minute. Wanna hit the streets tonight?" asked Louis before Harry could make it to the bathroom.

"Hit the streets?"

"Yeah, public sex. I'm losin' me tight hold on meself. That incident on the balcony kinda made me a junkie."

Harry had to laugh at that.

"Oh, so now you're gonna be addicted to public sex?"

"Not required, not required at all. You're all I need. Just you. But if it turns you on, I'll do it. And I might just enjoy it meself."

"We can give it a go, but if you get uncomfortable at all, we won't continue. And I need your promise you'll be honest about it," insisted Harry.

"Promise."

Louis was his medicine. The anxiety was melting right off of him, making Harry feel like the most blessed human being in the world. His boyfriend wanted to please him by acting out his fantasy, even after he'd let Louis down earlier.

"Were you even aware that we'd miss the plane when you were runnin'"? asked Louis.

"Yeah, I think so. Subconsciously at first, then the longer I was gone the more I just plain didn't wanna get on the plane. I'm not ashamed to say I wanted more time alone with you, Louis, even though I did it in the wrong way. Did you look for me?"

" _Look for you!_ I wish I knew how many miles I logged. All the streets around here, and asked at every business I passed as well."

"Oh Louis. I caused you so much grief," Harry looked pained.

"Forget about it, Curly. It's over. Just stick with me now—let's squeeze all we can get out of these last two days."

"You gotta deal." Harry then vanished into the bathroom, collecting the shampoo and conditioner bottles Louis had thrown on the floor in there and handling them as if they were gold. Shampoo! Conditioner! Soft, shiny, tangle-free hair would be his again.

Emerging from the steam-filled bathroom and toweling his hair, Harry was naked. Louis never got tired of looking at him. In any state of dress or undress. With clothes or without clothes, he blinded Louis with his beauty.

Louis stood up. "Give me fingertips an orgasm, baby." Louis' voice had lowered in the midst of his passionate thoughts.

"What?"

"Let me run me fingers through your now silky, clean, slippery locks."

Harry was elated to have Louis thread his fingers in the hair at his temples, and then around to the back of his neck, running them all the way to the ends of the damp hair that was already starting to curl.

Harry closed his eyes to savor the feeling. Louis could be boisterous, but he was also the most tender lover Harry had ever had. And Harry was the only one of the lads who could control him. That made Harry's heart swell with pride. He had the wild beast in Louis under his thumb. But he never let Louis know how much influence he really had, because he doubted Louis even admitted it to himself.

A little later, they nipped out into the night, hoodies in place, and walking with a certain authority that Harry copied from Louis' example. The scruff on Louis' face made him look a little dangerous, a little seedy. And Harry put on his scowl. No one bothered them after one glance.

After looking up and down a street that seemed promising, Harry took Louis' face in his hands and kissed him as he'd done in the hotel room. Long, slow, far from superficial. Right there in the middle of the street. Louis' heart hammered against his ribs with excitement and the sense of the danger of getting caught.

"This . . . this is how much I love you," Harry murmured into his lover's ear.

"Come 'ere," Louis pulled Harry to the side of a building, pushing his body up against Harry's. A knowing smile was elicited from Harry. Louis whispered into his ear. "Gotta suck your cock, baby."

Harry almost choked out loud when he heard the comment, the tone sounding so deceptively innocent, pure and virtuous. He thought Louis had to be playing with him, looking for a reaction.

But one look into Louis' blue eyes told him the lad was as earnest as he could possibly be. When Harry smiled, Louis' mischievous look predominated.

Harry had been planning to do the same to Louis, but this was too tempting to turn down. They were able to find a hedge at the front of a business building where all the lights were out and the blinds closed, indicating it was closed, like most places at this time of night. The hedge was about four feet high, and perfect for Louis' intended purpose. Louis dragged Harry behind it and wasted no time going to his knees, fumbling at the front of Harry's pants, making Harry lose his senses completely when a moment later, his cock was enveloped to the hilt in Louis' eager, moist mouth, deep-throating him in a greedy frenzy.

Harry closed his eyes and gave himself up to the magic that Louis' mouth delivered. The things Louis was doing to his cock— _fucking Heaven and back!_ Tongue, lips, throat, Louis' saliva overflowing. When Harry opened his eyes into a squint—with a great effort, his vision was so blurry he could hardly see a thing. The outline of Louis' head buried in his crotch was enough all by itself. All he could feel was Louis' tongue and his lips feeding on him, hear him sucking ravenously, hear his moans as Louis immersed himself in Harry's pleasure, making it his own.

The possibility of someone passing by and discovering their actions was tucked away somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, but his thinking was fuzzy, his passion for Louis was paramount. Louis continued to deep throat him, something no one else had ever been able to do, because of Harry's length and girth.

Momentarily, Louis would pull off, and the cool air would surround Harry's wet cock, making him even more sensitive when Louis' warm mouth would return. Soon, Harry could not tamp down his overpowering urge to roll his hips, at least slightly. He didn't want to choke Louis, but Louis remained just as voracious, showing no signs of letting up, and Harry's control was quickly vanishing.

The orgasm hit Harry sooner than he expected. It flashed through him, causing his entire lower body to tingle. He strangled his cries with one hand over his mouth, the other on the back of Louis' head. His hips were moving unpredictably, his panting breaths making him dizzy. His climax was a long, hard, grueling one that nearly knocked him to his knees. At least Louis was down there to catch him . . .

And as he had feared, his legs did give out after his last spurt that Louis was hungrily swallowing. He fell almost on top of Louis, who eased him down, then wrapped both arms around him.

"Are you okay, Carlito?" he asked, the twinkle in his eyes prominent. He knew what had happened, because he remembered how Harry had made him collapse once, two years ago. When you were standing, enjoying that level of stimulation with nothing to hold onto, you tended to topple over easily. Harry had accomplished that feat backstage at a concert.

"I think so," panted Harry. "You give a damn good blowjob, Pepito."

Louis threw his head back and let out a cackle that only happened when something was really, _really_ funny.

"I'm a terrible influence," he said, as if to remind himself to stop encouraging Harry to use such appalling language. Actually, it was kind of cute. Baby-faced Harry, looking younger than his twenty-two years, polite, sweet and proper as the day was long, cussing like a sailor! What had he done? Louis threw his head back and laughed again.

"I never knew semen could taste so sweet," said Louis conversationally as they walked back to the hotel. "I could suck you all day and all night without even stopping for a breath. You're like a sticky, delectable dessert, yeah?"

Harry's cheeks felt a little too warm. "I love it when you get graphic like that," he said. "Well, not when on the rare occasion that you get really mad and call someone a cocksucker," he added thoughtfully.

"Why?" asked Louis.

"Well . . . because . . . it reminds me . . . of . . . well, _meself."_

Louis doubled over again in stomach clenching laughter. When recovered, he wiped his eyes that were running like a faucet from his hysterics.

"Harold, I swear you're gonna make me collapse a lung! And yes, you _are_ a cocksucker. Literally." Louis went into a final bout of raucous laughter, hanging onto an amused Harry to keep from falling over. They quieted before they reached the hotel office. The clerks already thought they were off their trolleys.

"I see you've got a biggie there," Harry indicated the bulge in Louis' crotch as they went up the elevator.

Louis shrugged. "You blame me?"

Harry shook his head. "I reckon we'll take care of that when we get in the room." He was so happy to see Louis acting like himself again, and vowed he'd never leave him again in panic, anger, or any other emotion. They could overcome anything, the two of them.

Later, Louis sat on Harry's chest as Harry ravished his boner with an avid mouth, also running his fingertips up and down Louis' spine, making Louis quiver and quake. Sucking Harry off in the street had Louis already so aroused that Harry had barely gotten a good start when Louis erupted with a copious amount of come, grabbing at Harry's hair and sputtering feeble "Oh fuck, I love yous" as he shuddered, strained and savored until he was completely sated, finally dismounting Harry's chest and slamming his body down on the mattress next to the love of his life.

"I'm right knackered," sighed Louis, nestling his head on Harry's chest.

 _How blessed could one person be?_ Harry thought.

To have a boyfriend who loves you enough to put up with you dashing away without any explanation while acting totally mental, looks fruitlessly for you for hours, and then welcomes you back with open arms. Tough, capable, enduring Louis Tomlinson had a heart so full of love. For him. Harry Styles, who didn't deserve any of it. 

They knew it was just a matter of time before they heard from someone. Exactly who, they didn't know, but when the phone rang the next morning at nine as they slumbered tangled together in bed, Louis knew before he even looked at the display on his phone. He just _knew_ it.

 _Simon._

Sweden being nine hours ahead meant it was midnight in California. Simon must be steaming. And why wouldn't he be? Harry, his pride and joy, and Louis, another very valuable member of the band had run off together. And had _not_ come back with the others.

Louis took a deep, stabilizing breath, nodding to Harry in acknowledgment as Harry came instantly awake and fully alert when he saw the name on the phone's display.

 _They hadn't discussed it. Fucking shit_. How could Louis talk to Simon without having come to an agreement with Harry about what exactly would be said? Well, he could always let it go to voice mail and call Simon back later.

"Let it go to voice mail, discuss it, and call him back?" asked Louis quickly.

"No. We both want the same thing," said Harry with conviction. "I'm with you all the way."

Feeling the power of Harry's sober words thrumming through him, Louis swiped his phone and answered. "'ello?"

"Louis . . . " Simon's voice, which Louis flicked onto speaker, seemed to reverberate through the room. Louis saw Harry give a slight, involuntary shudder. Simon gave the impression he was fully in control and calm. But there was also that undercurrent of threat that Louis had grown to hate the sound of. You didn't hear it often, but when you did, you knew it would leave you with a bitter taste.

Simon didn't waste any time with niceties. "It's all over the place. Everyone knows you and Harry didn't get off that plane," he said, his voice fixed and taut, unyielding.

"Alright," said Louis simply, waiting for the bomb to drop. Whatever bomb that might be.

"Louis, what is your position? Are you coming back?" Simon's voice was increasing slightly in volume, and Louis knew he was fighting for control.

Yup, right to the point, no tiptoeing or dancing around the issue or trying to butter anybody up. Simon didn't work that way.

"We're both here, on speaker," Louis began. "And we have to have certain conditions met if we're to come back, and only under those conditions _will_ we come back." He was very relieved that his voice sounded rigid yet calm. He wanted Simon to know how deadly serious he was.

"You do realize you have a contract, right?" Simon's condescending tone rasped at Louis' nerves, made him want to shout into the phone that he was no fool, and shouldn't be spoken to as one. But he bit his tongue.

"Yes, and I've been in touch with me attorney about just that," he answered in a clipped tone.

Simon laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. It was ugly, in fact. It had a forced, patronizing flavor to it.

"And what _conditions_ are you referring to?"

"Very specific ones," Louis pushed himself forward because this had to be said, and now. "I'll give it to you straight because I'm shooting from the hip with this one. I won't pull punches. Harry and I are in love. We want to be together. And you aren't making that possible. No more tight leashes. We want to _come out_ , to the _world,"_ he emphasized.

Harry was smiling.

Simon was silent.

"And I feel the same, two hundred percent," Harry stated in his low, hypnotic voice that sounded, to Louis' delight, staunchly firm.

Simon let go of another humorless laugh. "Not possible," he growled. "You do as I say."

Obviously, Simon already knew they were in love. At least, his response didn't belie any surprise. At that moment, Louis wondered if the entire world knew. Yeah, they must have been _that_ obvious.

Louis felt his face heating up, but he knew he had to remain as professional and as masterful as he possibly could –he couldn't afford to lose his cool.

"Nothing in the contract we signed states you can control how we conduct ourselves around each other."

Silence. Apparently the cat had Simon's tongue—but not for long.

"I got you where you are today, Louis and Harry. I made you rich. I call the shots, as all managers in show business do."

"Not if it's not in writing," Louis spat back. "The fans love us, and the majority want us to be together. The band won't lose anything in popularity if we were to come out."

Harry touched Louis' back tenderly, just enough to attempt to reassure him because he could feel the older lad's temper flaring.

"I'll have to take a look at the fine print," said Simon smugly, his air of superiority really grating on Louis' last nerve.

"Me attorney has already done that. More than once."

"You can't leave if I don't agree to your conditions. You still have two years on your contract," Simon sounded a bit like a ten year old, sticking his tongue out. Louis expected him to say, "So there!" at any moment.

"We can afford to buy ourselves out of the contract if need be," Harry's voice intervened. Louis' head swiveled sharply, and he beamed a huge smile at his boyfriend, also giving him a thumbs-up. His pride in Harry was huge right now.

Silence on Simon's end again. Louis wondered what the mogul was thinking. Was he weighing his options?

"We'll talk when you guys get back to L.A. You _will_ be here for Friday's concert?" Simon's voice was still even and sounded strong as steel, but Louis could see through it. After five years, he had never heard Simon sound tentative—at least not toward 1D, but now, Louis thought he heard the tiniest trace of it in the older man's voice.

"We'll be back on Friday, in time for the concert," confirmed Louis, throwing Harry a glance to be sure Harry was still on the same page. Harry immediately nodded his agreement.

"You'll need to get here early to allow us time for a meeting. You, me and Harry," Simon directed.

"We'll be there in time for a meeting, don't worry," Louis' voice was cold and carefully governed.

"Concert is at eight, so, around five, in my office?"

"We'll call you," Louis said, refusing to make a solid commitment, knowing it would annoy the hell out of Simon.

It did. Simon was shook up. Louis knew that without a single doubt. So Louis rang off without so much as a goodbye. When the connection had been broken, Harry grabbed him.

"You were brilliant, baby!" Harry enthused. "You sounded so . . . so, _in control."_

"Thanks Harry. But don't forget, this is just the beginning. The meeting with Simon is not gonna be a cakewalk. We'll have to be on our toes like we've never been before."


	14. Chapter 14

They languished in bed for a while before getting up for coffee-tea for Louis.

"I'm proud of you, Harry."

"For what?"

"You're standing up for us, for our relationship. The way you spoke up."

"It's difficult, but I'm tryin' me best. I'm not naturally confrontational."

"I know that. And that's part of why I'm so proud of you."

There they were now on the balcony, Louis on the chaise lounge in his fuzzy red slippers and nothing else, drinking tea, and Harry leaning casually against the halfway open sliding glass door, fooling around with his phone, but wearing underwear.

Louis couldn't stop staring at him. Being sexy came so naturally to Harry. Just standing there, not the least bit aware of how alluring he was to Louis. Totally in the dark about it. Oblivious to how difficult it was for Louis to keep his hands off him, and save the space between them, Louis _would_ be touching him.

Those long, long legs, the expression on his face that looked slightly pouty, but really wasn't. It was just one of Harry's everyday expressions now. Louis wasn't sure if it was just a habit, or a result of all that had happened in the last two years. A very rough two years. When he was young, Harry'd almost always had a smile on his face.

"You're gettin' quite used to bein' naked," Harry scrunched up his nose in that cute way he had to let Louis know he wasn't upset about it. "Just make sure you don't spill your hot tea where it would hurt the most."

Harry had a point there.

"It's a thing," Louis answered with one of Harry's favorite expressions.

"Bein' naked? Yeah, it is. A nice thing. I'm glad you're discoverin' that." Harry smiled, and Louis ached to sprint the five feet between them and poke his finger into one of his dimples.

"You and _I_ are a thing," Harry added, and before Louis knew it, Harry was kneeling beside him, kissing him, barely giving Louis time to set his mug down before he really _did_ spill it on a sensitive area.

One of the things that endeared Harry most to Louis was how secretly passionate Harry was. It was their secret. Harry slid his lips over Louis,' deepening the kiss by degrees, keeping Louis craving more. Louis whimpered slightly, grabbing at those amazing curls. Harry's tongue parted Louis' lips and delved inside, sliding their tongues together. Louis responded ardently. Sucking at Harry's tongue got that deep, baritone growl coming from Harry's throat.

"Suck me tongue, suck me nipples, suck me cock," Harry whispered into Louis' ear. "You do it all beautifully. You're sensational."

Louis gasped. Those carnal words. Would Harry never stop shocking him? He spun Harry around with one hand, giving him a sucking kiss to the middle of his back. "You forgot about that," he reminded Harry.

"Oh no, I didn't. I don't forget _anythin'_ you do. Know how many times I relived that back bite in me dreams the whole time we were apart? I could feel it Lou, really _feel_ it, in me mind."

Harry's phone rang. He'd set it down on the balcony railing when he had approached Louis. He rolled his eyes, grabbed it and glanced at the screen. Meanwhile, Louis was trying to discourage his cock by giving it dirty looks. It was inflating, and it didn't escape Harry's notice.

"Liam," announced Harry just before he answered it. Liam's slightly overwrought voice blared on the speaker.

"Do you guys know that word has leaked, and the press, tabloids, paps, fans, and everyone else on God's green earth knows? You guys better be careful. I wouldn't leave your room if I were you."

"We really don't have any plans to," Harry answered, smirking at Louis.

This innuendo embarrassed Liam, even though he'd unwittingly brought it on himself. He cleared his throat and paused, giving Harry a chance to enlighten him on what the deal was.

"We're staying a couple more days, Liam. Did you know Simon called us?"

"No, Simon wouldn't be likely to tell us about that. What'd he say?" Harry could tell Liam was holding his breath for the answer.

"Threatened us, more or less, sayin' we can't leave because of the contract. We told him we would come back, but only on our terms."

"Yeah?"

Well, they couldn't very well leave Liam out of what was actually happening. It would be cruel and unfair. It was the future of the band, for God's sake!

"Actually _we_ threatened him first," Louis spoke up, correcting Harry. "Told him we're in love, and wanna come out, and no more restrictions on us."

Liam gasped. "Are you shittin' me?"

"Nope," said Harry. "Lou didn't mince words. We even said we'd buy our way out of the contract if he doesn't agree to it."

"Harry gets credit for that one," inserted Louis. "But you know, Li, it won't come to that." Louis hoped that would reassure Daddy Directioner.

They could tell Liam was uneasy, so they attempted a casual air while explaining to him about talking to Louis' attorney, and nothing being in the contract pertaining to the way they conducted themselves around each other. So . . . they essentially had Simon by the balls.

"Wow," Liam sounded out of breath. And well he should. This was staggering news. He hadn't seen it coming. "This is a shocker. I knew you guys had a 'thing,' but I didn't know it was this serious."

"Oh, we have a 'thing' alright," Harry was being cheeky, his long, sensual fingers caressing Louis' bare belly as he said the words.

"Yeah, the past two years have been hell for us, and we're damn well not goin' through any of that again," said Louis a bit shakily, because Harry was in danger of causing him another imminent erection.

"Seriously? You won't come back if Simon won't let you come out?"

"It'll never come to that, Li. We couldn't leave you and Niall in the lurch anyway. We _wouldn't._ Lou's attorney more or less said that there's nothing Simon can do because it's not in the contract. We just don't wanna have to hide it anymore, and we refuse to sneak around." Harry's voice echoed Louis' confident air. They had to do it for Liam. Sound confident, that is. They both felt empathy for him. It was a lot for him to swallow.

Liam struggled to absorb it all. "I'm gobsmacked," he said quietly. "But chuffed for you two. Niall will be too."

"We're a long way, still, from being home free though," Louis reminded him, knowing he had to.

"What about Friday's concert?"

"We'll be there," responded Louis. "We're having a meeting with Simon first. Fuck knows how _that'll_ go. Might be ugly. On second thought, no doubt it'll be uglier than sin. But Simon has this comin' to him."

"No kiddin.' When will you two be back in L.A.?"

"We haven't even discussed it yet. Probably Thursday night. Friday will be a very long day for us," Louis looked at Harry. Harry would have liked to stay until Friday, but he realized it wouldn't be possible. Not with the eleven hour long flight, the pre-concert meeting, and the concert itself. There were too few hours and not enough time to accomplish it all, even for two young, resilient guys.

"Have you talked to the human echo?" asked Louis.

"Nah, but you know Zayn. Even with this news hitting, he probably won't call. I think he thinks he's too good for us anymore."

"Just curious. Well, we'll see you sometime day after tomorrow, yeah?" It pained Louis to say that, as it sounded way too close.

"Right. Sure thing. Love you guys," and Liam hung up. Louis thought he'd heard a hint of a crack in Liam's voice when he had said the final three words. When he looked at Harry, he realized it wasn't his imagination. Harry was misting up as well.

"He actually thought we might leave him and Niall?" Harry's voice was small.

"I don't think so—not really. Deep down, he knows the truth. He know _us,_ Harry. All we can do now is pray Simon will go along with this without doin' something childish, like trying to sabotage us, or fight us in court."

Now it was Louis' phone's turn to ring. His mum. She'd heard, and he hadn't had time to call her to give her a warning. He should have called twenty minutes ago, when they'd first gotten up. His heart sank with the realization that he'd failed her. He did his best to reassure her that everything was fine, and he and Harry would be back on Thursday. That they'd just decided to stay a couple more days. He didn't tell her anything about Simon or the contract. There would be time for that later, when he could talk to her in person. She sounded relieved when the conversation was over, and Louis could swear her voice was shrouded in a quiet wisdom. He had a feeling she'd known about himself and Harry for longer than he'd ever imagined. Mothers were like that . . .

Next was Stan's turn. It was funny because as soon as one conversation ended, within ten minutes, one of the phones would be ringing again. Stan knew all about Harry and Louis, and this news was no surprise to him. He said he'd expected everything to come to a head with Simon soon anyway. He'd seen all Louis' miserable moods and had been hoping for some time that things would be resolved.

Louis called his attorney next, hoping this would be the last call, at least for a while. He told Mr. Meyers everything Simon had said, and their responses, then put the conversation into the lawyer's hands.

Mr. Meyers was slow and calculating with his reply. Louis heard the rustling of papers being put down on the man's desk, and he wondered if Mr. Meyers might have been going over their contract one more time.

"Let me say Louis, that things are in your favor. Yours and Harry's," he quickly amended. "Mr. Cowell doesn't have much he can do at this point. Although, as I've stated before, he's cunning, and we'll have to be vigilant, keep a close watch on him.

One thing that I must stress is that I don't believe you and Harry should have the initial meeting with him. If I have your consent, I think it's in your best interests that I meet with him first."

Louis let loose a sigh of relief. He had been hoping Mr. Meyers would suggest that. The attorney would be far more influential than himself and Harry. And a whole hell of a lot more intimidating in his own subdued, professional way. He wasn't likely to blow his stack. Louis had never seen him ruffled in the past. He just took care of business. It was what attorneys did best.

"We're all for that," said Louis, Harry grinning in agreement.

"I'll call him and set up an appointment at his office, in the morning hours in the next couple of days if he's free. I'm sure he'll make time to see me," Mr. Meyers said wryly.

"We have a concert Friday night. He wanted to see us a few hours before the concert. Just so you know."

"Good, good. Thanks for the heads-up on that. That'll give me sufficient time."

"Thanks, Mr. Meyers. What do we do in the meantime?"

"Wait until I call you, which will be after I've met with Mr. Cowell. I'll advise you then."

"Okay. You think this will go alright?"

"Not entirely sure . . ." Mr. Meyers sounded contemplative. "Depends on Mr. Cowell's reaction to this. You said he was on the hostile side on the phone. He may cool off a bit, but on the other hand, he may not. He may want to involve his attorney. I hope not, but we won't know until I meet with him. Expect the worst, but hope for the best. Mr. Cowell has a lot to lose if he doesn't abide by your demands. I don't think you are being unreasonable, since Mr. Cowell has known about the situation for some time. I hope he won't be a dolt about this. His reputation is on the line, plus, as I said before, a lot of capital as well."

Once the conversation had ended, Louis and Harry silently gazed at each other. Mr. Meyers had given them hope and doubt almost in the same breath.

"Harry, we need to talk about this now. What, exactly, are we going to ask for from Simon?"

Harry hesitated. Louis was a natural leader, good with words, and confident. Harry was not as sure of himself, and sometimes tripped over his own tongue. Why was Louis asking him? He had expected Louis to more or less take over.

"Okay, I think I know what you want," responded Harry. "You want to be sure I want the same things you want, right?"

Louis nodded. "You're a sharp guy, Haz. I _do_ want to hear it in your own words," admitted Louis.

"Okay," Harry was determined to do this—take more responsibility for their decisions, as he'd told himself he would from now on. "We want to be ourselves, naturally. We won't be puppets or robots. We want to proclaim our love for each other. Come out. Tell the audience as much. As for our personal interaction on the stage, I'm happy with anything from acting professional yet relaxed, to openly showing affection."

"Bingo!" Louis clapped his hands together, causing Harry to jump. Louis managed to catch his empty coffee mug that was balancing on the railing just as it tipped, in preparation to land on someone's head walking on the sidewalk below. He shrugged sheepishly.

"You got it though, Harry! That's exactly what I want too. Anything between the two extremes is fine with me. But I'd love to be able to actually look at each other again, fondly, the way we used to, touch each other here and there, maybe be as touchy-feely as we were before, and maybe even share a quick kiss during, or when the concert is over, while still in front of the audience."

"And hold hands as we exit the stage, perhaps?" asked Harry.

"Baby, we're perfect!" cried Louis, causing Harry to smile at his use of the song lyrics.

Harry's shimmering emerald eyes watched him—eyes that reflected the morning sun. A shiver ran through Louis. It would be helpful, he thought sarcastically, if he didn't love Harry so much.

Harry had followed Louis when he ran, at a moment's notice, and without question. That was loyalty, and it was proof of Harry's love. It was more than a lot of lovers would have done, and they hadn't even been lovers at the time.

Louis couldn't stop the disturbing thoughts from coming. What if something went wrong? Was he that selfish that if it came down to it, he'd be willing to break up the band? Because, in the worst scenario, by God, that could happen.

"We'll need to charter a jet for Thursday," he said to Harry, attempting to take his mind off Harry's beautiful eyes, facing Simon, and repercussions. "We'll be flying that entire day, and we'll need to be bright and fresh for Friday."

Harry nodded in the affirmative.

Louis grabbed his boxer briefs, which were next to the chaise lounge and slipped them on. He was comfortable enough naked on the chaise lounge, but not standing. At least, not yet. He walked over to Harry, studying how perfect the lad was. Harry's eyes met his steadily with a look of wonder, of longing. Louis' heart thumped erratically. It was one of those moments when time seemed to take a deep breath, and pause.

"You're mine. I love you, man, more than you'll ever know," Harry spouted, and it made Louis smile. Harry could come up with some wonderful things right off the top of his head, yet at other times he seemed at a loss for words. But it was all part of his charm, his appeal.

"Yes, I'm yours. We'll get through this, even though we're both scared shitless," said Louis. He was letting Harry know he wasn't he only one who feared this giant step they would be undertaking. The fear seemed to quake under their very feet.

"I'm glad you admitted bein' scared too," Harry looked genuinely relieved. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and laid his head on Harry's chest.

"Your green eyes . . . they gleam. They do somethin' to me."

"You have no idea what your _blue_ eyes do to me. I wanna swim in 'em. Dive right in, yeah?"

Harry watched as the Swedish morning sun glinted off the dark golden highlights in Louis' hair. He could hardly believe his good fortune. Those fascinating blue eyes searched his, and he wondered what Louis was looking for. The truth? Well, he had it. Harry had no secrets, and nothing but love for the Donny lad.

"Let's go cuddle," Louis led Harry into the hotel room. They cuddled on the couch with only one more full day in front of them-tomorrow-before going back to their lives of music, which was their second greatest passion next to each other. They agreed to stay in for the remainder of their stay. They had room service, and several changes of clothes. Not much else was needed.

Liam had been correct—paps would probably be scattered throughout the area, and although they wouldn't know exactly where Harry and Louis were staying, they would tend to hang out near where the concert had been, and that was only a short distance from the hotel. They would be daft to even venture from the building. In fact, the balcony would have to be off limits now too-now that the news had leaked. Louis shuddered when he thought about the possibility of nude pics of himself and Harry being circulated. He got up briefly and quickly pulled the blinds.

Louis chartered a jet for Thursday morning, which was no trouble at all when you had the kind of money he and Harry had, requiring only a single phone call. Then he turned his phone off, and Harry's too. Harry surrendered his phone with a sly smile. They'd check their messages now and then, but they refused to be disturbed for their last day and a half alone together.

"I'd love to kiss you onstage," said Harry shyly. "Not a long one, but a short tender one with feeling. Make all the Larry fans happy."

"Happy, my ass! They'll be delirious!" was Louis' eager reply. "It'll be sick!"

They made plans. They could go back to lots of touching, doing their fast cat walk together as they had done in earlier days, something that had made them feel on top of the world, make seemingly harmless innuendos into the microphone that Larry fans would pick right up on. Smile at each other again, making their love for each other obviously mutual, and being able to include the fans too would be the icing on the cake. Concerts would actually be _fun_ again. Everything out in the open, and with no shame.

They found music channels on the telly and settled on listening to their favorite old bands while Louis snuggled into Harry on the couch.

"I want breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and pancakes," announced Louis.

Harry giggled. "I don't know if they'd know how to prepare that here. Remember, Swedes have breakfasts that are very different from the ones in the U.S. and the U.K."

"I don't care. That's what I want. This last chunk of time we have together, I want us both to be happy. What will make you happy?" Louis peered up at Harry.

"You."

Very Harry-like. Completely loving and unselfish. Now Louis felt guilty for demanding something specific when Harry was content just to be here with him.

"And that breakfast sounds amazing. I'll order," and Harry picked up the room phone, putting Louis' guilt to complete rest.

The breakfast wasn't exactly like the Americans would make it, but it was close, and delicious nonetheless. They were stuffed by the time they'd finished it off.

"Those last few bites kinda broke the camel's back," Louis said as he held a hand to his bloated tummy.

"Just cuddle up again. We can take a nap if you like, then stay up all night, and sleep on the plane all the way on Thursday. We'll still have plenty of sleep by Friday."

Harry, not being able to resist, bent over and sucked Louis' neck, his tongue licking it delicately yet lasciviously as well.

A chill crawled up Louis' spine, goose bumps assaulting him and popping up all over his body.

"When I'm less full, Styles, I'm gonna let you continue that," Louis' eyes twinkled.

"Is that an invitation for later?" Harry ventured.

"Of course. And I don't need to invite you either. You can take what you want, _whenever_ you want . . . except when I'm full."

Harry laughed. "I've had these feelings bottled up for so long, Boo Bear. Hearing you say things like that makes me feel loved again," Harry's voice was suddenly husky and raw. "I don't feel vulnerable and rejected anymore."

"I fought hard to get you back, Harold. I've been workin' at it for two years. You don't get hints easily. I had to come right out and ask you to run away with me! I didn't become a warrior for your love to give up after a few tries. Just remember that I'm here, and I'll be here for as long as you'll have me."

Harry slithered behind Louis on the couch so Louis' wouldn't see his tears. He was really touched by Louis' announcement, and feeling emotionally fragile. Those words had struck him deeply.

Harry kissed Louis cheek, and intense feelings stole through him as fondness feathered in his chest.

"Remember how we'd be big spoon and little spoon?"

Louis nodded.

"Well, I wanna be the big spoon this time," Harry whispered against his neck, wrapping his arms around his lover.

"Feels good. Feels right," Louis' voice was growing faint, and Harry knew the big meal had made Louis sleepy, and it was having the same effect on him, come to think of it. They drifted off to see the sandman together, their breathing in sync, their legs entwined.


	15. Chapter 15

Sometime later, Harry woke and watched Louis sleeping. He used to love doing that. He propped his head up on his elbow and just gazed down at his handsome boyfriend with the long golden eyelashes brushing against his pink cheeks as Louis no doubt frolicked in dreamland. Or maybe his dream was a replay of what had happened earlier?

After a few minutes, Louis began to stir. Harry knew from past experience on the tour bus, the X-Factor house with the bunk beds, and their current communal house in California that this meant Louis was beginning the slow process of waking up. He'd move an arm, then a leg, then maybe readjust his head on the pillow; but in this case it was the couch cushion.

Harry waited patiently. He was good at that, unlike Louis, who was the most impatient person Harry knew. Louis made the cutest little noises as he came awake. Like a baby bear. Boo Bear. Harry smiled. Louis now scooted back more firmly into Harry. Harry's eyes, against his will, lowered to look at Louis' member. It was soft.

There hadn't been one time since they'd been here that they'd been this close and Louis' cock hadn't been hard. Harry took immediate advantage. Since Louis was waking up anyway, it wouldn't hurt. He scooted down slightly, leaned over Louis' body and, with great relish, suctioned his dick into his mouth.

Amazing how outrageously good it felt in Harry's mouth. He could almost feel what Louis was feeling. Lou's flaccid cock started to harden almost straight away, and Harry savored the feeling of it slowly filling his mouth. He sucked steadily as it became rigid. Louis moaned, and Harry wondered if he had triggered a dream, or enhanced one.

"Harry! Oh God, Harry! I thought it was an erotic dream!" Well, that answered Harry's question.

"Ah . . . ahhhh. I felt . . . I felt your mouth, and I dreamed you were suckin' me on the balcony."

Harry giggled around Louis' cock. Louis began to thrust, and Harry rolled over him so he was in front now, pushing Louis back firmly against the back of the couch so it would be easier to take him deep into his throat. Harry's long legs were hanging uncomfortably over the arm of the couch, so he rearranged himself so he was on his knees in front of the couch.

He began his torture then. Teasing Louis by getting him very worked up and close, and then backing away to offer only a tongue swipe.

"Harry, damn it! Don't start! You want to do that all the fuckin' time!"

"All the _suckin'_ time," Harry corrected him.

"Why do you do that? Tease me like that?"

"Because it makes your orgasm even better."

Louis reached down to grab Harry's prominent erection through his underwear. The front of his briefs were damp. That turned Louis on to the max—the fact that just sucking him made Harry so incredibly hard and dripping from the tip.

"You love doin' that, doncha?" Louis decided to insert some sultry comments.

"Uh-huh," confirmed Harry, not being able to talk because Louis' cock was in his mouth again, clear down to the root. He began to deep throat Louis, then promptly stopped.

"Son of a bitch! Harry, you're bein' a dickhead!"

Harry just laughed, licking in thin strips up and down Louis' cock again, dragging his moist tongue across the head of Louis' member, then tickling the underside, making Louis jerk and swear. Louis cupped his hand around the back of Harry's head and guided his cock into Harry's mouth with his other hand.

"Want me to make you?" he threatened. They'd played this game in the old days too.

Harry finally relented, and he figured he might as well. He'd teased Louis by backing off at least five times, and Louis' orgasm was going to be a major eruption at this point.

Louis thrust into his mouth like a mad man. He plunged, not able to bring himself back under control, his hips jerking completely out of rhythm. Desperate, his gasps for breath told Harry he had done a superior job. Louis let go, and his ejaculate spurted into the back of Harry's throat, causing them both to moan with the extreme sensuality of it.

Louis' climax was the longest to date. He whimpered, writhed and groaned, squirming around, chasing Harry's mouth, chasing the completion of his orgasm. Harry held on for dear life to Louis' hips for fear Louis wouldn't get the full benefit, should he lose contact in the midst of his orgasm.

A sweating, panting Louis couldn't even form words for a while, his eyes closed as he caressed Harry's curls, but when he did, he praised Harry until the Cheshire lad's cheeks flooded with crimson.

"That was massive, Harry. I reckon I've never quite felt like that before. You know how to work it, mate."

"It's all love," was Harry's quiet answer.

A little later, as Louis sat on the couch with his eyes closed, listening to The Fray, Harry disappeared. At first Louis thought he was getting a drink of something, but when he didn't return, Louis scouted around for him, only to find him in the bathroom, washing clothes in the sink.

"What're ya doin'" asked Louis, puzzled.

"All our clothes are dirty. Thought I'd wash 'em so we don't have to when we get home."

"Harry, that's what laundramats are for."

"We can't go outside though, remember?"

Oh yeah. Louis had almost forgotten. "Well, why not just hand them off to staff when we get home, and we can just wash clothes for us for Thursday, when we fly home?"

"I don't know. I guess I need somethin' to take me mind off meetin' with Simon," admitted Harry. Louis saw that Harry's lower lip quivered ever so slightly when he said that last sentence.

"This is a big thing for both of us, Haz. But especially for you. You've never really stood up to anyone before, have you?"

"Not really," Harry confessed.

Louis had always stood on his own two feet, and never hesitated to give people a piece of his mind if necessary, so he found it hard to put himself in Harry's shoes. How restricting and frustrating that must be, to never speak up. He mulled it over in his mind as Harry continued to gently wash their clothes.

"You're a gentle soul, Curly. But this world will eat you alive if you don't start standin' up for yourself."

"I know, and it's time I learned. You'll help me, won't you, Lou?"

"Sure, sure I will. Simon is no different than any other human being. He just happens to be an asshole."

Harry laughed. "You make it sound so easy. Just stand up to the asshole and everythin' will fall into place."

"Nothing really worth having is easy to get. Well, it goes somethin' like that. Things will fall into place, but it'll take a bit of resolve, and a bit of acting too. You know, behaving the opposite of how you feel inside. You feel scared inside, and you put on a brave front. You feel unsure of yourself, you act like you're coolheaded and absolutely unwavering in your confidence in yourself. Simon is flesh and blood, just like us. He'll put up a fight, no doubt, but we have to be ready for it, yeah? I'll coach you if you'd like."

"I would!" Harry's eyes were bright with expectation. "Is that why you've never been beaten up by thugs? Because of your attitude?" he wanted to know.

"Well, luck plays a part, but yeah, I don't show me fear. That's the very first thing people like Simon look for—weakness. Weakness, fear, timidity. You have to replace those feelings with a new persona. Let Simon know he can't push you around. Not that it matters that much, but you're bigger than him, Harry. That can intimidate too. You use everything at your disposal to convince him that you aren't going to allow him to call all the shots anymore. Remember how I taught you to walk down the street with a purposeful stride? And with that scowl on your face? It all originates in the mind. People sense it. It kept you from gettin' in trouble when you ran from me; you said it yourself."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I felt like a hard ass for the first time in me life."

"And you let that attitude fool people. You can do the same with Simon."

"Simon's a different story. He'll get in me face."

"So don't back down. Get right back in _his_ face," instructed Louis. "I'll be there with you, Harry. You won't be alone. We'll do it together."

Louis felt a need for a short time-out. He was overwhelmed, anticipating the scene with Simon. It was reality, and it was coming soon. He went back into the main room, looked out of the glass, onto the streets of Sweden and thought about how he'd ended up where he was in life.

Everything had gone in his favor. In a nutshell, they'd gone from being frightened, trembling kids on the X-Factor stage to attaining huge celebrity status. Like a whirlwind, it had blown them over. But even with all the notoriety they'd gained, all the millions of fans, the biggest thing to happen to Louis had been Harry.

Louis had always thought he was too cynical to fall in love. He'd seen what love had done to friends of his. He didn't want that hurt, because sooner or later, something happened, people changed, and the one you loved stabbed you in the heart. He had been eighteen, two years older than Harry, and two years was a bit of a gap when you were that young. He had struggled with the fact that he didn't want to feel the kind of agony he'd seen in other people's lovesick eyes, and to make matters worse, he'd also struggled with his sexuality.

Harry had been so pristine, so unmarred, and a virgin. He'd been open, unpolluted, spick-and-span, and he scared the hell out of Louis. Harry had doted on Louis even before they'd been picked to form a band by Simon. Harry, a fellow contestant, had constantly stared at him, and at first, Louis felt not only scrutinized, but as if he were literally being taken apart and examined, piece by piece.

So he'd tried to ignore him, but, the truth of it was, Harry was hard to ignore. He was too giving, considerate, honest and . . . gullible. The gullible part terrified Louis. He found himself looking out for Harry for fear Harry would get himself in a bad situation just because of that vulnerability that was all too obvious, and Harry had not had enough world experience to even try to hide it.

Louis felt a need to protect Harry because he didn't want that sunshine smile to turn into a frown, his heart to be broken, his spirit crushed, to be taken advantage of. And Louis knew it could happen all too easily. Harry went around being generous and helpful to people—people who didn't deserve it. People with not-so-good intentions.

And so Louis spent more and more time with Harry when they weren't working. That meant he was with Harry and usually the other lads, more or less around the clock. He got to know Harry's every habit, every like and dislike, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was far too late. Not only did he realize Harry was in love with him, but that he, himself, was in love with Harry.

Their relationship had been simple in the beginning, but in time it became complex. Before long, with one look or one touch, Harry could reduce Louis to a puddle of wallowing whimpers, although he never showed it on the outside. Not at first.

But, over time, Louis found himself looking for Harry every second, needing to have him by his side, or at the very least, in his line of sight, and if ever Harry was gone for any length of time, Louis would fret internally. That was when he knew for sure that Harry had had such an impact on his life that he would likely never be the same.

Louis snapped himself back to the present. He walked back into the bathroom.

"Okay, so let's just wash one change of clothes, yeah?" He stood beside Harry at the double sink, each washing a shirt, underwear, and a pair of skinny jeans. Harry submitted to Louis as far as washing clothes went, and almost everything else too. Louis was going to have to do something about that. He didn't want to change Harry's character, as that would be a crying shame. The guy was just too original and precious just the way he was. But he _did_ want Harry to be more assertive. Especially with people who could hurt him. People like Simon . . .

They had fun washing the clothes and then hanging them on the shower curtain rod afterward, joking and nudging each other's shoulders in a flirty manner. It had been so long since they had been able to do this—actually make body contact.

"I'd hang 'em from the balcony, but we can't go out there. Besides, remember the time Liam's underwear got stolen by fans?" giggled Harry.

"Yeah. I wanted to take a shower though," now Louis looked perturbed. "And I can't with all the clothes hangin' up here."

"Just leave 'em up there. Let's both hop in," and Harry slipped his underwear off and vanished into the shower. Louis shrugged his shoulders and followed Harry. The clothes were already wet anyway—what harm would it do if they got splashed a little more?

Harry found out what Louis' plans were in the shower within five minutes. After soaping up, Louis turned to Harry.

"You said you wanted your tongue, nipples and cock sucked. I'm ready to deliver."

Harry still had his hard-on from the couch incident, and as tremendous as his climax had been, Louis had recovered almost immediately, as he always did when Harry was in the vicinity. Louis took a moment to remember all the times he'd stroked himself to a climax just to sport another one as soon as he saw Harry. Then the lad had gone on to haunt him for two years with memories, and by God, he was going to make up for it now.

So they teased and tantalized each other in the shower. The kisses were hotter and steamier than any shower could possibly be, and Louis sucked Harry's tongue with a fervor that had Harry hanging onto the shower walls to keep from toppling over. Desire flooded him, and he clung to Louis with one arm, the other bracing himself against the onslaught of lust that Louis was fiercely generous with. The bathroom mirror was completely fogged up just as much from their steamy, rapid breathing as from the warm water.

"Let me take you, here in the shower," begged Harry.

"No, I'm taking _you,_ as soon as we get outta here," announced Louis, making it clear who was alpha most of the time.

The wild, untamed kissing continued. There was also fevered neck sucking.

"I can't take much more of this, Boo," Harry sounded so pitiful. Louis looked down at their stone-hard cocks, soapy and slippery, and he deliberately rubbed them together with his hands cupped around them both. Harry whined and whimpered, wishing Louis would finish up their shower so they could go to the bed. As Louis washed Harry's back, he ran two fingers delicately down Harry's spine like Harry so often did to him, lingering at the bottom of Harry's spine, in the little indentations above his butt cheeks. Harry shivered as if he were having a mini orgasm.

When it was Harry's turn to wash Louis' back, he did the same thing, but extended his hand down to Louis' butt, enthralled with how it was so perfectly shaped, so firm, and he caressed it with both hands. Now it was Louis' turn to tremble.

They stepped out, dried off, and went straight to the bed.

"Gotta work on getting you to lactate," teased Louis, sucking Harry's right nipple. "I swear, if it's possible, I'll make it happen."

"Wait, what if . . ." Harry was unable to continue, Louis' mouth sending sparks of pure arousal to encompass all of Harry's nerves. Louis stopped.

"What?"

Harry, able to speak again now that the stimulation had stopped, said, "What if me nipples leak at a concert? That would really be embarrassing."

"Well, we can fix that by getting you wet with a water bottle. I'll just spray some on you, being sure to get some on your chest so no one can tell. I'll be squirting Liam anyway, so nothing will look suspicious." Louis waggled his eyebrows and then nibbled Harry's nipple again, causing Harry to take a sudden deep breath and arch his back. Louis licked it next, Harry melting right into the bed sheets.

"Nothin' to stop me now," Louis murmured as he moved to the other nipple. Louis took care of it in the same way, taking his time, and by now Harry was clutching at him, blind with lust.

"And now . . . for your cock. Tongue, nipples and cock," Louis indicated he'd remembered what Harry wanted. Louis only went down on Harry for a few minutes because he could feel that Harry was getting ready to combust. He held the base firmly with one hand and sucked the head vigorously. Harry was especially fond of that.

"Raise your legs, love." Louis eased Harry's legs up to his chest and then spread them, settling his body between Harry's legs, and sucked him a bit longer. Harry gasped. It felt so . . . carnal. Here he was, legs in the air and spread wide, completely open as Louis sucked him. He'd never felt so wonderfully vulnerable and helpless . . . and he loved it.

When Louis felt him nearing his pinnacle again, he dropped down to his balls, licking and sucking them amidst all Harry's sounds of pleasure. Then he rimmed him. Harry was beside himself by now from so much stimulation. Louis watched as Harry's cock twitched and jerked as he licked and probed his hole with his tongue. He felt his own cock flex strongly.

Louis moved up on top of Harry and slowly introduced himself into Harry's body.

"Oh . . . oh," Harry thought the sensations might just do him in. They had all been so different, so varied, and now Louis was buried all the way inside him. Louis now performed one of his favorite maneuvers, and bent his body so he could take the head of Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry seriously didn't know how much longer he could keep from dying from the intensity of it all. Louis was thrusting against his prostate and sucking him at the same time. Oh dear God . .

Louis moved fast and shallow, then deep and slow, alternating the sensations for his lover. Harry held his breath as he climbed higher and higher, and reached his zenith right as Louis nudged his prostate and delivered a hard suck in the same moment. No way could Harry hold back a second longer. He came with a holler louder than Louis had ever hear him utter, even during their early days of intense sex on a daily basis. It shocked Louis and greatly gratified him at once.

When Harry spurted, it tipped Louis over the edge, and he came strongly within Harry's body. It went on longer than an eternity. The only thing that could possibly be better would be if they could continue this after they got back to America.

"How do you like being fucked and sucked at the same time?" asked Louis with a lazy smile when they'd gotten their breath back.

"Damn. Just damn. Wish I could do it to you. I'm not flexible enough, but I wish you could experience it. I can't even begin to describe it. It feels like dying, but not a painful death—a beautiful one. The ultimate death. I want you to know, Louis, that . . . my whole world begins and ends with you."

"Just remember somethin' Haz. I can give you something no one else can. Me."


	16. Chapter 16

Harry closed his eyes as he absorbed Louis' words. Simple and true, and they brought him indescribable pleasure.

 _I can give you something no one else can. Me._

When he opened his eyes again, he looked right into Louis' eyes. They were soft. and he saw the trust there. It humbled him in an instant. Louis trusted him to be by his side as they took Simon on. He trusted him not to run again. This was what Harry craved most—Louis' trust. He'd breached it, but it wouldn't happen again. Harry felt needed, cherished, and he wouldn't break that trust ever again, no matter what it took. No matter how frightened he might be.

"I _want_ you. I need you. I love you," as the words left Harry's lips, he was aware that he was saying things that had been said millions of times before, by other lovers. But he couldn't find words that were intense or descriptive enough to tell Louis how he felt, so he went cliche, hoping Louis would forgive him.

"I've never loved anyone else, Haz. No one makes me guts flutter like you do."

They both instantly laughed, because it came out in such a comical way, Louis turning deep pink.

"I understand," comforted Harry. He gazed into those luminous eyes that pinned him with such pure color. He was powerless to pull his gaze away. As if he'd ever want to. He had never felt so weak before, but it wasn't in a bad way. It didn't make sense to him, but being in Louis' clutches made him feel strangely weak and powerful at the same time.

"Simon is that shadow holding us hostage, you know," Louis murmured, letting it sink in before speaking again. Harry smiled. "It really does apply, though," Louis explained quickly, aware that Harry was comparing the lyrics to their current state of affairs. Lou had pretty much hit the nail on the head, thought Harry, even if he'd cheated with lyrics.

"I was thinkin,' we need to tell him we want to move out of the house and in another one together. If you want that . . ." Louis' eyes met Harry's again, and he noticed how they sparkled. Harry was clearly delighted.

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation on Harry's part. "Of course I do! And I'm glad you thought of it. We could finally have complete privacy."

"Agreed. And buy it with our own money. Otherwise, Simon would try to find a way to control that too. Now . . . let's talk about what we'll say to Simon. What he might say to us, and our comebacks. He'll probably be pretty nasty, Haz, even after me attorney talks to him."

Harry nodded bravely. "I know. But I plan to keep me cool. I don't want him to know he flusters me, and I'll do whatever you suggest to accomplish that." Harry looked so earnest, so willing to go the distance.

"We'll be fine Harry. I always knew that. I knew you'd be fine from the moment we met."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew you'd make it . . . you have that special something—some kind of magic. I knew you'd succeed in life, at whatever you ended up doing."

Now Harry was blushing hotly. "You should be talking! I saw your charm and the potential in you as well. I saw your determination, how you took things and shaped them just the way you wanted. You made me feel strong. I couldn't stay away from you."

"That much is true," Louis smiled. "Every time I turned around, there you were."

He didn't admit how he'd constantly checked on Harry's whereabouts. Louis was a little more reserved in public about his feelings than Harry, who liked to blab openly about stuff, and then, inevitably humiliate himself. Louis could be plentifully expressive in the bedroom, but he was still just a little on the reticent, secretive side when it came to showing such unabashed adoration the way Harry did. At least Louis _tried_ to be subtle. With Harry though, it was a difficult task. Harry's attitude was contagious. Harry brought out all his vulnerabilities and frangible qualities.

"Where do you fancy living?" asked Harry.

"It's not just my choice, Curly. That's just one more step toward you learning to be more assertive."

"Well, I do like the area where we live now," said Harry thoughtfully. "So maybe not far away?"

"We see eye to eye on that. I quite like the idea. Maybe a little closer to the beach? We can even actually get beach property if you want."

Harry's eyes gleamed that special, pure green that became more intense when he was emotional. They both loved the water.

"We could make it our own. Decorate it in blues and greens. Our dream come true," said Harry, and it was decided as simply as that.

They spent the rest of the day on the couch, ordering from room service and talking. In fact, they never stopped interacting for longer than five minutes. There was just so much to catch up on. Even though they'd been together all along, they hadn't really been _together._ They'd shared the same experiences as had the rest of the band, but hadn't been able to be alone to kick around ideas together, or confer about much of anything. And they'd missed it. Communication had always been an important cornerstone in their relationship. They'd been friends before lovers, and that had aided their interactions, their eventual intimacy, and also aided disclosure.

Harry grew less frazzled as the day wore on. His belief in Louis overrode his frayed nerves. By the hour, he let down and became more accepting of their precarious position. He'd always had faith in Louis—he wouldn't panic again like he had when he'd run away. He'd seen how capable Louis was in many situations, and he knew the older lad would not steer him wrong. Louis was rock solid, and Harry admired his bearing and carriage without concealment or shame.

They made the mistake of turning on the telly, and even though there was a lot of static, they heard what newscasters had to say about their vanishing act. It wasn't good. Liam had not exaggerated. Apparently there were paps all over Stockholm, scouting for them. Now that Louis thought about it, he'd seen a few people with cameras in the street, but he'd been in denial that they were paps. Now he knew they were, and was glad the heavy drapes were pulled.

The newscasters made quite a production of the two 1D members being missing. There was all kinds of speculation, some even going so far as to say it was unclear if Louis and Harry would ever return to the band. Louis and Harry couldn't look away from the telly, getting caught up in the conjuncture of big names in entertainment giving their opinions on what was transpiring.

Of course, reporters had tried to contact Simon and management, but there had been no comment. Louis had expected as much. Simon would keep his mouth glued shut until he knew for sure what was going down. He wouldn't want to project any opinions of his own because right now, he was looking pretty bad.

And of course there were the Larries. When people were interviewed on the street, the Larries thought they had it all figured out. Louis and Harry had run away to be alone together because they were in love, and had been so controlled that they could no longer tolerate it. Larries also stated that they thought Louis and Harry would be "coming out" very soon.

 _If the world only knew how true that was._

Louis turned the telly off, and he and Harry stared at each other. The enormity of it all hit extra hard. They had known their disappearance would be big news, but they'd not dreamed it would be _this_ big. It was gigantic. They'd have to be even more cautious than ever before when it came to reporters and the like when they returned home.

The remainder of the day passed much too quickly. They held each other, kissed, talked, and talked some more. It was a luxury just to thread their fingers in each other's hair, or hold hands without fear of attracting attention or seeing that scornful, forbidding look in Simon's eye. Looking into each other's eyes was now a true splendor when they had been so thoroughly disciplined and habituated not to do.

Harry's hands wandered over Louis' body in a lazy, yet sensual way, without being sexual. Louis couldn't figure out how he accomplished that.

"Nice being alone, innit?" he asked.

"The nicest. I fancy it more than anythin' else I can think of,"

As the day drew to an end, Louis became withdrawn. Tomorrow would be it—their last day, and he was suffering halfway regrets. Regrets that they hadn't threatened Simon with evaporating into the atmosphere, running away without a word. But his more rational side warred with his rebel side. That was why the regrets were so lacking in stability. He knew what was right and wrong, and he battled his emotions, which kept beckoning him to do or say rash things.

They practiced for hours, Louis quoting things to Harry that he suspected Simon might say, and Harry practicing his responses. Louis didn't tell Harry exactly what to say, per se, allowing Harry, of course to word it in his own style, but he certainly gave strong suggestions. Harry was an avid student, lapping it all up, forming his own counters and boosting his faith in himself as a result.

He just wished he had Louis' sass. Louis could give the impression that he could care less about authority, yet still not completely step over the line. Harry reckoned Louis was an excellent match for Simon. In many ways, Louis was a dark horse. You didn't know who you were up against until he caught you unaware.

Tiring of the Simon talk, Louis announced that his attorney would have Simon "primed" for them anyway. It was just a good thing to be prepared for any eventuality. Mr. Meyers would be taking on the majority of the workload. It cheered Louis up some to remind himself of that fact.

Louis lay across Harry's lap, and they kissed leisurely, but with deep feeling.

"I love how you caress me, but don't make a move on me," Louis said, pondering if Harry would understand what he meant. Some things were hard to articulate.

"It's a process," Harry answered. "Lots of small moments that lead up to something great. But you have to take it slow, let the feelings evolve. And when the love is there, the rest is easy."

Harry was so often correct about things of this nature, but just the same, it never failed to astonish Louis. Harry was so much deeper than a lot of people took him to be. He really studied things, let them take shape in his head, and then acted on them only after subtly testing their impact. He didn't do things rashly or haphazardly.

Louis had observed Harry conducting experiments the last few days. That was how he succeeded in uncovering what Louis liked. He would stumble across and unearth hidden desires by way of lucky guesses and sometimes by accident-frequently desires that Louis himself didn't know he had. The exhibitionist tendencies had really stunned Louis, and delighted him too. Evidently he hadn't known himself as well as he'd thought.

Harry was one big romantic surprise, and Louis might not know a lot of things, but one thing he _did_ know with certainty was that he could not live without Harry. No one else could possibly be in such perfect harmony with him, or so accommodating, because Louis had to admit even to himself that he was no picnic to live with, or be in a relationship with.

Now, as Louis lay across his lap, Harry's kisses were consuming him in the sweetest, yet most passionate way, Harry-style.

 _Harry Styles is doing it Harry-style_. Louis smiled inside.

Harry's hands were gliding over Louis' back and sides with a feather like touch. Then Harry would stop and just look at him, his gaze penetrating so deeply that Louis could swear he was looking into his brain. Then he would resume the kissing. Louis never knew what Harry had in mind, but he did know that Harry loved it when Louis came up with ideas too—truth be told, Harry loved Louis' tendency to take charge. With Louis' natural leanings, it was no surprise he was the most frequent aggressor in the relationship, but it was also exciting to mix things up now and then. They kept each other constantly in a state of such heightened awareness. It was always fresh, always new.

Harry's eyes were a bit love glazed when he attempted to penetrate Louis' thoughts again. He then buried his face in Louis' neck and breathed in deeply, and continued to do so.

"What're you doin'?" asked Louis, curious and pulling back to look at Harry.

"Taking in your scent," answered Harry wistfully. "I missed it so much that I can't seem to get enough. I like you with no cologne, deodorant or aftershave. Just you. Your natural smell. It's cozy, warm, and unlike anyone else's."

Louis remembered how they'd headed straight from the shower to the bed after drying off, without applying any products. He was slightly embarrassed by Harry's praise, but also felt very flattered.

"Odd, but I know what you mean," he responded. "I've always known it was you when you hugged me from behind, not one of the other lads. Partly from your mannerisms, but also from your comforting signature smell. The best scent in the world."

"It has to do with pheromones," explained Harry, sporting a big smile, pleased that Louis felt as he did. "Animals find each other through scent when it's time to mate. Natural selection, it's called. Some of that basic instinct remains in humans. It's chemistry, and all five senses have to be involved. Sight would be . . . each of us finding the other attractive, hearing would be liking how we sound to each other, touch being . . . well, that's kind of obvious-liking the way each of us caresses the other. Taste is obvious too," Harry arched his eyebrows suggestively.

"And finally, there's smell. If one or both people don't care for the way the other smells, nothing can change that. We're all born with our own brand of scent. Either you're attracted to it or you aren't. If two people are attracted with all five of their senses, it's very fortunate."

Louis loved how Harry explained the whole process. Harry put his all into things that sparked his interest, and he'd certainly done his homework on this subject.

"Yes, it is." Louis said thoughtfully. "I don't like other scents covering up what nature gave you—kind of the same thing you described. Also, your concert or footie or soccer sweat . . . it's heady. It causes me dick to twitch."

Harry chuckled. "Same here. It's erotic, it is. I feel you breathing me in sometimes like I did with you just now."

Louis flushed, yet nodded his assent. "I do that," he confessed shyly.

They ordered dinner from room service, and then sang to each other, facing each other on their sides on the couch, one of Harry's legs flung over Louis' upper thigh.

They sang "Better Than Words" because they both really enjoyed it when Harry echoed Louis' lyrics at the end of a few lines in that song. The only thing that was missing were the other lads, and Harry's tremendous spouting of a mouthful of water at the beginning of the song. Harry offered to perform it, but Louis laughingly declined.

They also sang "Moments" because they could do it now without nearly losing their composure. Before, the song had connoted melancholy and sadness in them. Now it created an overwhelming feeling of love. And, of course, they had to belt out "Drag me Down" mostly for the hell of it. Afterward, Louis swore his eardrums must be made of steel. Harry had a serious set of pipes.

By the time 3am arrived, Louis looked a little grim.

"What's wrong, love?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I'm just tryin' to forget having to have a meeting with Simon," Louis grumbled.

He was so cute when he sulked.

"Now you're pullin' a Harry."

Louis smiled reluctantly. "Funny, that. I tell you to stop bein' anxious, and then I go and get depressed meself. It's not much better, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "Shadows come with the pain that you're runnin' from. But soon, we won't be runnin' anymore."

Words of wisdom from Harry again.

"You know, it seems that Simon is the shadow holding us hostage, but it's not really him. We hold the key to our own happiness. We just have to demand it," Louis was trying, along with Harry, to lighten things up.

"We'll be alright. We've told each other that, Louis, if you remember. And you've always taken it to heart. We're a little older now, but we both still believe. Just hold on. We'll be alright," he repeated. "It's a thing with us, babe. We've waited this long to be together. Surely we can face the rest of it. All we need is freedom. Not necessarily freedom from any particular person or persons, but freedom to be ourselves. It's enough. It'll make us complete."

They had somehow fallen asleep on the couch without even going to bed. Their warm bodies were pressed close, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled. When Louis awoke, it was light outside, and he sensed something was not quite right. Harry's breathing was labored as he lay right up against Louis, because being on their sides was the only way they could keep from falling off the couch.

Louis pulled his head back to examine Harry's face. Harry's eyes were wide open, a spooked look tinted them darker than normal their green, and the realization hit Louis that this was their last day. No wonder the lad looked so mournful and overwrought. Now Louis understood the fretful breathing, the morose expression Harry wore.

Louis clung to him. "It'll be alright, Hazza my love. I'll get us some breakfast from room service." Louis took over, offering sweet kisses and clumsy pats and rubs to Harry's body, trying in any way he could think of to get Harry to relax.

After breakfast, Louis drew them a bath with bubbles. Why not? He knew it would make Harry happy, because Harry took joy in simple things—he had for as long as Louis had known him. And might as well put the bubble bath to good use, right?

As they settled into the warm water, Harry perked up. He blew bubbles at Louis, and laughed when one balanced on the end of Louis' nose. Louis made a "halo" of bubbles around Harry's head, and then brooded because he couldn't take a picture of it. He stuck his lower lip out, prompting Harry to kiss it because he just couldn't resist.

"There will be plenty of time for lots of pictures later, Superman. Remember, we'll be livin' together."

 _There!_ thought Louis. He was joyous to see Harry breaking out of his gloomy cocoon into the butterfly he truly was. They washed each other with loving hands, massaged each other's scalps with shampoo, brushed their teeth while still in the bathtub simply because they were too lazy to stand at the sink.

"Somethin's growin,' Harry looked down between them as they stood face to face after exiting the tub, completely enveloped in the towels they had wrapped themselves into. They laughed as libidos started to rise, along with their members, as they dried each other.

"Another day of teasin,' I suppose?" Louis eyebrows were raised questioningly.

"More 'n that," Harry said cryptically, flashing his dimples.

"Well, considerin' we went to sleep last night unexpectedly, I think we're due for ' _more 'n that._ '"

"I'll love you all day, Boo Bear. In any way you want, for as long as you want."

Louis' cheeks flushed, his heart raced, and he stood up a bit on his toes to suck lightly at Harry's neck, then adding his bottom lip, remembering long ago, when they were between practices, enjoying a few days off. Or, later on, their furtive nights on the tour bus. Those days had been extraordinary, phenomenal.

It seemed so long ago, and yet it seemed like just last week that they would go off by themselves and bask in their mutual love. Indulging, ravishing each other, begging for more, resting, and then lavishing more love on each other. Lots of cuddling went along with it. It didn't end until they were forced to go back to work, but every time their eyes had met—and that was often, they'd smile and blush about their little secret. Those days remained bright in their memories, and no matter what happened when they got back to California, those memories would stretch into forever, because they would just continue to add more.


	17. Chapter 17

Louis had lost count of how many orgasms Harry had given him today. Five, maybe six. So many ways, so much loving affection, and by the end of the day, there was little left of Louis but a limp rag. Louis had tried numerous times to please Harry, but Harry had denied himself, intent on pleasuring Louis with all his attention concentrated on him until the older lad practically cried out for mercy. And he'd been fucking close to that point, mused Louis.

Harry was so incredibly unselfish. Only after Louis had had multiple orgasms did he allow himself some pleasure. As the day was nearing an end, Harry finally allotted himself the luxury of coming.

When Harry at last surrendered, Louis nibbled on his bottom lip, then licked it, then his tongue wormed its way into his mouth. Harry relaxed and gave in with a happy sigh. Louis licked his neck, sucked it hotly, nibbled his earlobes, then came back to his mouth, eating at it, moaning, giving Harry some heavy hints of what was to come.

Time for Harry to luxuriate in what Louis had to offer. Louis had experienced this aching passion all damn day long, had reached climax time and time again, and it was Harry's turn now. A fevered Louis sucked him, completely losing himself in the act, and Harry loved every second. Louis didn't hold back, eager to make Harry happy, and he became a virtual porn star. Only he wasn't acting. Harry simply made his passion top out.

Harry's explosion was by far the most intense he'd ever had. He marveled at the level of arousal that caused him to erupt so violently. Teasing and pleasing Louis all day had kept Harry in such a sharp fervor, that when he finally succumbed to Louis' ministrations, it enabled him to achieve a truly astonishing level of sexual gratification.

He flopped around on the floor, where Louis had finally subdued him enough to undress him and practically force himself upon the curly lad. Louis was stronger—Harry didn't have a fighting chance. But by this time, he didn't _want_ one. Harry was in a state of ecstasy, Louis now at the controls.

 _Well, it was about time._ Louis was exceedingly pleased that Harry was undergoing what he himself had been savoring all day long. All the orgasms Harry had suppressed the entire day had come to the surface, causing him to go off like a giant round of fireworks, and it seemed to last for several solid minutes. It couldn't have—but it seemed like it.

A gasping, sweaty, totally satisfied Harry gazed up at Louis, his hair everywhere; falling over his forehead and into his eyes, curling around his neck, swirling on his cheeks. He could barely even smile, struggling to get some air into his lungs. His smile made Louis' heart twitch with something bittersweet. They would never have lost this for two years if not for . . .

They had a wonderful last dinner in Sweden together in the hotel room, complete with candles that Harry had asked room service to bring, wine, chocolate and wonderful, deep conversation. The lights were dimmed, and their eyes glimmered. They fed chocolate to each other with their fingers. They spoke only of love. Tonight was reserved for that.

In the morning, Louis had dressed in the bathroom after they'd had a shower together. Harry was sitting on the couch awaiting his turn to get dressed.

Louis emerged from the bathroom, and taking his eyes off him was not an option for Harry. Dressed and ready to go, wearing the grey shirt he'd bought with tight jeans, Louis looked so inviting, so succulent that Harry was hard pressed to keep from attacking him on the spot.

Harry reluctantly took his turn in the bathroom, eyes on Louis the entire way. He was staring so much at his lover that he tripped over a rug and fell flat. Talk about embarrassing. He looked up at Louis, humiliated.

Louis, relieved upon seeing that Harry was not injured, burst into laughter, assuring Harry that he himself had nearly tripped many a time while gawking at Harry. Even on stage. This eased Harry's bruised ego a bit.

Harry got the same treatment when he opened the bathroom door and came back into the main room. He felt Louis' eyes on him, eating him up, and it made him feel extra special. He didn't care how many girls stared at him—Louis was the only one who mattered.

"Harry, you fuckin' turn me on," Louis said.

They both called their mums and friends, including Niall and Liam to tell them they'd be on their way shortly, and that all was well.

When the car came to pick them up, they hurried outside, shielding their faces from any possible prying eyes, and luckily there were no paps in the immediate area. Harry had settled the bill with the front desk that they had racked up with room service. They had an extra carry-on with the clothes and toiletries they'd bought.

Shortly, they boarded the jet they had chartered and were on their way.

"Shit!"

"What?" asked Louis, startled, as Harry wasn't normally prone to outbursts.

"The hotel key! To the other room! I forgot to return it!"

"Oh hell, Harry. Just call 'em, apologize, and send it to 'em."

Easy enough. Why sweat it when you could solve the problem without stressing out?

They slept for part of the journey and looked out of the windows for the rest, neither mentioning the fact that they'd be meeting up with Simon tomorrow. Plenty of time for worrying about that later. They kissed a lot, and the eleven hours passed a lot more quickly than they had anticipated. Before they knew it, they were coming in for a landing.

They had chosen a small, regional airport in L.A. in which to land, lending almost zero risk of being spotted by media. Louis and Harry absolutely needed privacy at this point to curtail even more speculation than what was already circulating, should they be spotted. Private regional airports didn't require big terminals with all the facilities, nor a runway that a 747 would. They could also hop off the plane and into a waiting car without having to cover much ground at all.

Louis received a text from Simon right at the moment of their landing.

 _Your lawyer will be in to see me today_.

A day early. But that was just like Mr. Meyers. He always got the job done in a timely manner.

 _We just touched down in L.A. Available anytime between now and close to the concert. Sooner the better. Want this sorted out ASAP,_ was Louis' return text.

" _I'll text you after he leaves_ , Simon texted back, and Louis didn't bother to reply.

As soon as Louis placed his phone back into his pocket, he glanced out of the window as the jet came to a stop. He couldn't believe his eyes.

This time it was his turn to swear. "Shit! Mother fucker!" he cried.

Harry, jolted, knowing that Louis had seen something that could not possibly be good news on any level.

"I swear to God, Haz. It's TS!" he said, almost spitting with wrath.

" _What?"_ The lads referred to Taylor Swift as "TS."

"It can't be!" protested Harry.

"Well, it is. And all dressed up to the nines too," Louis sounded unstrung. This was nearly Louis' breaking point. After all that had transpired in the last couple of days, this was almost too outlandish to be real.

"Look," demanded Louis, pointing out the window to the woman, in all her glory; high heels, perfectly coiffed hair, skimpy low cut sequined white blouse with tiny white sequined shorts to match, bright red lipstick that was visible even at this distance, standing elegantly right next to the car that was to pick them up.

"Holy crap!" said Harry. Just then, Taylor saw him looking out of the window, and began to wave coquettishly, batting her insanely long eyelashes, as if she had every right to be here.

"How in the _fuck_ did she know we were landing today, at this exact time, in this exact place? Impossible! No way!" Louis was beside himself.

"I have no idea. And you know I wouldn't lie to you," said Harry, which wasn't at all necessary because Louis knew without a doubt that Harry was absolutely done with her, and would not contact her under any circumstances. Harry's face confirmed it. Besides that, poor Haz was incapable of telling a lie.

Louis didn't understand how she even knew that this obscure little airport even existed, or why she hadn't been ordered to leave the area, but then realized this was _Taylor Swift,_ and personnel would assume she had every right to be waiting for Harry, since they had been linked in the past.

Her four inch wide diamond bracelet glinted in the sun, almost blinding Louis, her hair shone like the sun itself, and Louis couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy grip his gut.

But it was short-lived as they disembarked. Harry played it off extremely well, He looked her way, pretending he'd just seen her and casually waved, as if it were an everyday meeting with a neighbor on the sidewalk. Always polite to a fault, Harry spoke to her briefly.

"Hi, how ya doin'? and slipped discreetly into the waiting car, vanishing almost before the words left his mouth. Louis was immensely relieved and appreciative of Harry's composure and grace. The car sped away at Louis' direction. Turning around, Louis watched Taylor getting smaller and smaller, her mouth still stuck in the shape it would be to form words to Harry. But then her shoulders drooped in defeat as she stared after them in incredulous disbelief that Harry would snub her after she'd gone to such lengths. Harry didn't even bother to turn around.

Did that woman _ever_ give up?

Louis realized the "affair" Taylor and Harry had had was all a farce. It had been set up—all the lads knew it. Trouble was, Taylor had fallen, and fallen _hard_. Harry had not. Of course he hadn't—Harry was _gay._

Later, Harry and Louis shared a chuckle about the incident, with the two of them feeling just a smidge sorry for her. It must have taken massive efforts to find out they'd be back today, since they'd told no one but family and their closest, most trustworthy friends. Even then, they hadn't told anyone what airport they'd be flying into. So her appearance was a complete mystery to them. But TS had always been insidious.

Mr. Meyers called Louis a couple of hours later and filled him in on the conversation he'd had with Simon. As Louis and Harry had expected, it hadn't been pleasant. Louis almost felt pity for his attorney, who sounded utterly drained.

"I'm not sure if any progress was made at all, to tell you the truth," the Mr. Meyers explained. "It's difficult to get a read on the man, but his reputation is very accurate. He's a tough cookie. But I do think that if you're extra firm and uncompromising, you might make headway. The law is on your side, after all, thanks to the contract. But he was obstinate and stubborn as any I've ever run across."

Those words had an impact on Louis. Mr. Meyers was well respected amongst his peers and had come highly recommended. In other words, he'd dealt with some tough customers. So yeah, he and Harry were going to have to be on their toes and sharp as whips.

Simon texted Louis not long after Mr. Meyers had, asking if they could come to his office that evening. Good thing they'd slept on the plane and had recharged their batteries somewhat. Louis hoped that with the time change, they'd have their wits about them; nevertheless, he would rather do it now than wait until tomorrow, the day of the concert. He and Harry agreed that all they both wanted was to get it the hell out of the way.

They entered Simon's office together, Harry's clacking boot heels on the tile floors in the hallway announcing their arrival. All Louis had to do was just _think_ about Harry's boots to get aroused, but hearing them like this was really distracting. Especially now, when he really needed to be on top of his game. So he shook himself inwardly and continued to walk with purpose, shoulders back and head held high like he knew what the fuck he was doing.

Louis had pumped Harry up, as much as he had himself. He'd stressed to Harry how important it was that they appear unintimidated, and tough. Unruffled. It was all the more he could do. He hoped he'd done a good enough job convincing Harry of the importance of attitude and appearance. They'd find out now.

The door to Simon's office was open, and they walked in, Louis simply saying, "Simon," as a cool, detached greeting, and seating himself in a chair opposite Simon's desk without being invited. Harry wordlessly sat in the other chair that was on the same side as Louis' chair, but about four feet away from Louis. Louis, without hesitating, motioned Harry to stand while he pulled Harry's chair in close to his, where Harry sat down again. Louis wasn't going to give Simon an inch. Not even enough control to dictate where their chairs would be placed.

"Louis," returned Simon, steepling his fingers in front of him on the desk. He didn't address Harry, which got Louis' dander up right from the go. Simon looked deceivingly relaxed, almost languid, but his eyes gave him away. They darted here and there, Louis picking up on it instantly. Next Simon sat back in his chair, as if he was on the edge of boredom, perusing the singers he had hand-picked and successfully brought to stardom.

Louis and Harry sat there, waiting for Simon to speak, each refusing to be the first to speak. Louis' heart swelled with pride for Harry. For a normally shy, sometimes timid bloke, he was giving Simon his semi-scowl and imitating Louis' posture in his chair—very informal and looking slightly disinterested; causing them both to match Simon's demeanor.

At last, Simon broke the silence.

"Well . . . how was your visit to Sweden? Your flight back?" he asked, thinly veiled sarcasm edging in.

Louis went right to work. "No need for the polite banter," he said smoothly, but with a deadly edge to his voice. "We all know why we're here. I'll put it bluntly so you can stop your charade. Whatever it is you are attempting to do won't work. Harold and I are coming out. To the world. And we will no longer be kept apart, or have rules concerning that subject shoved down our throats."

Simon almost gasped, but caught himself just in time. He hadn't expected Louis to be so openly self-assured and decisive. He attempted his intimidating stare-down, but Louis was having none of it. He just stared right back, barely batting an eyelash, and not averting his eyes.

 _Someone to be reckoned with,_ thought Harry proudly as he sideswiped Louis with his peripheral vision. Harry felt safe, and even more importantly, empowered by Louis' dynamic presence.

Even though Simon was nearly twice his age, Louis wasn't going to let that influence him. Respect your elders and all that. Yeah, but only up to a certain point. Simon had infringed on their rights—h ad taken advantage.

Sparks seemed to arc around the room, the energy level almost uncontainable, considering Simon and Louis' equally strong personalities.

"Louis, I've known about you and Harry for some time. It looks _bad_ , son. Teenagers are a big majority of your fan base, and if they know for sure that you're _together,_ the young girls' dreams will be shattered . . ."

"You mentioned that to me already in the past, remember? Me attorney must have told you that I feel differently about it. Harry feels differently about it. In case you hadn't noticed," he went on, matching his sarcasm with Simon's, "we have a whole portion of the fandom that calls themselves 'Larries,' meaning they ship us—they want us together. They eat it up. It will not hurt our popularity in the least when we come out."

Harry noted Louis had said "when" and not "if." Harry had never felt prouder of his Tommo.

"I want you two to listen to me –" Simon's voice began to rise.

"No, _you_ listen to _us_! There is nothing in that fuckin' contract that says you can rule our lives. We are perfectly within our rights to look at each other, for God's sake, and even express our love for each other if we want to, and we will exercise that right!"

Simon, stunned, saw he'd have to up the ante somehow and put this kid in his place.

Louis was starting to lose it. Harry saw it in his clenched jaw, his grim tenacity, how his eyes narrowed, the way his hands clutched the sides of the chair he sat in.

Against his will, it occurred to Harry how hot it was. Seeing Louis so aggressive. He'd kissed those lips, he'd caressed that body, made love to him. He could tame the beast in Louis in an instant. All it took was sweet kisses. He'd done it many times. Of course, he couldn't do it here. Besides it being inappropriate, they had to stand up to Simon. But the thought still aroused him. He'd seen the gentle, extremely loving Louis, and Simon hadn't. Simon probably never would. Louis' murderous glare was penetrating Simon like a laser.

 _Little shit,_ thought Simon. The boy had the savvy and brilliance of someone twice his age. He wasn't going to be an easy nut to crack. But he had to find some weakness—anything at all, to knock Louis down a notch or three. He needed it. He was too feisty for his own good.

"It doesn't look professional when you two stare at each other like love-starved puppies," Simon was stiff and wooden, fighting back the urge to show his anger, even though his voice had increased in volume.

"I don't give a shit _what_ it looks like to you. The fans—or most of them approve of it. I won't explain it again. If you didn't get it the first time, you never will."

Simon chose silence again. He sat there and allowed Louis to mutter and grumble to himself in an attempt to gain control over himself as well as gain the upper hand.

"I got you two where you are—" Simon attempted to continue the toxic argument that showed the potential of turning volatile.

"I heard that from you on the phone, and you aren't bloody well going to hold that over our heads. Yes, you did select us, but you alone didn't make us famous— _we_ did. We worked our asses off for you, and still are. You didn't sing for us, you didn't charm the audience for us, you didn't put everything you had into the music for us. _We_ did that—we became the One Direction the world knows today because of our talent and our willingness to put our noses to the grindstone. We put out albums, wrote and toured all at the same time."

"I am the one you answer to, your mentor. You understood that when I decided to take you on," retorted Simon, his face finally beginning to redden, his fists to clench.

"Nothing in the contract! Didn't you hear what I said?" Louis was becoming livid, and Harry, while he was angry himself, was worried Louis would lose control and trash Simon's office, or worse, actually hit Simon.

"Nothing in specific terms about not hanging all over each other, but one would think that would be understood! It isn't appropriate. I didn't expect to have two members of the band making goo-goo eyes at each other and touching suggestively in front of sold out crowds of tens of thousands of adoring fans."

"Every one of us touches the others. We've been that way since the beginning," Harry interjected. "It's nothing new."

This unsettled Simon in a heartbeat, his eyes shooting to Harry. He totally hadn't expected Harry to speak up. Harry had always been the easy going, amenable one. He'd never caused trouble with Simon or anyone else. He'd just followed orders and never complained. Now Simon was becoming more concerned by the moment, in fact, alarmed, because it appeared that Tomlinson had influenced Harry. He'd been hanging around this smart mouthed kid too much, and the sassiness had rubbed off on him.

Simon pushed his chair back from the desk and just studied the two of them. It was common knowledge that Louis was headstrong, and Simon had known it almost from the very beginning. But that was often a good thing; it showed the boy had drive. To have _two_ of them rebelling, however, was past disconcerting. He'd thought that Harry had just had a shot of bravado over the phone, but here he was in person, backing Louis up, not looking a bit flighty.

He couldn't afford to lose them. And they'd already threatened to buy out their contracts, Louis' attorney also having mentioned it. Were they bluffing? He couldn't afford to find out. With just Liam and Niall left, he would no longer have his top money making world famous band. The fans would never accept substitutes now either. And these boys were all so loyal to each other that he could even see Liam and Niall following suit.

As if to put these thoughts in concrete, Harry spoke up. "We need to talk to Liam and Niall . . . " the curly lad trailed off, and it got the desired effect. Simon was just about as certain as he could be that Harry was hinting that the other two would also buy out their contracts.

Shit. He was in a world of shit. Giving in to these boys would make him appear weak, but not giving in could mean losing them and letting _GOBS_ of money slip through his fingers—something that did not bode well with Simon. If there was something Simon liked better than anything in this world, it was money.

But he wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet . . .


	18. Chapter 18

"Okay, yeah," Simon was trying another tactic in an attempt to cool Louis's jets. "You guys have always been very hands-on, I'll give you that."

"The lot of us," Harry iterated. "Not just me and Louis."

"Yes, all of you. But you two caught the attention of the fans, and there did seem to be a certain, very strong chemistry. Even so, the girls want you boys to be single—they want to feel as if they have a shot, a chance at you. Think about it. When you're young, you think anything is possible. And you two boys being so "fond," as it were, took that chance, no matter how small, away from them."

Louis bristled when Simon used the word "boys." It was an insult in this setting. He needed to be taken seriously. Treated as the adult he was. Also, he hated the way Simon just assumed his closeness with Harry was hurting their young fans.

"Damn it!" Louis had risen from his seat, causing Harry to instinctively do the same. "You're not getting it!" He didn't address Simon as Uncle Simon, as they had for a long time, and he didn't feel like being respectful enough to call him Mr. Cowell. So he just plain didn't address him by a name at all.

Louis' eyes were a blue blaze of resentment, and Simon tried to push away the feeling that he'd possibly met his match.

"You've stolen from us a part of our formative years. Especially Harry. He was only sixteen. And you denied him. You denied him his right to express himself, and I think you actually get off on controlling us too. Power trip. That's what it is, innit?" Louis' teeth were gnashing, and Harry wouldn't be at all shocked if the Doncaster lad started to foam at the mouth.

"It's a shame, that," Louis finished his current thought with a toned down melancholy note, still angry, but his eyes far away, nostalgic as he remembered the earlier, blissful days with Harry.

Simon was strangely hushed.

"You've done enough damage. We need to try to get ourselves back," Harry's quiet, slow, low-keyed voice floated on the air. Harry's voice was so often comforting in a hypnotic way, but now it held a kernel of a plea. "Think about it. I know you've got a heart in there somewhere. Let us give it a try. We'll prove to you that the fans will be all over it."

Louis gazed at Harry, hardly believing this _man_ sitting here was now grown up. He wasn't sixteen anymore, and he was actually holding his own with Simon in his own unique way. He had Simon thinking—the mogul's wheels were turning in his head.

"Damn straight," Louis gritted out, agreeing with Harry, yet still on the very edge of violence should Simon utter a single insulting word. "I think the Larries will easily be in the majority. Have you ever looked online at all the Larry fanfic? And if the rest of the fans are ambivalent, we'll win them over."

This was a bold statement, but Louis believed in what he was saying. He admired the way Harry was trying to smooth things over, but looking at things pragmatically, how would it be possible? Simon's road was never smooth. Rather, it was bumpy and full of pot holes. Louis didn't want to have serious conflict with Simon, but if it came to it, he would not shrink from it.

Simon, as Louis had predicted internally, did not soften at Harry's words. His first reaction was always to be uncompromising. He tried again to pin Louis with a hard look. He might look ominous, but Louis didn't recoil. He gave as good as he got, holding Simon's eyes with equal or better self-possession than Simon currently emanated.

"You've caused remorse and regret that shouldn't be there because of the way you've limited our freedom. You took it too far," Louis said this with conviction because it was nothing but the bald truth.

Louis was still standing, and so Harry did not make a move to sit again. He knew Louis too well. Simon remained sitting, his haughty expression goading Louis to new heights. Harry was seeing some serious red flags.

Simon put on a sulking act next, probably to try to throw him off, but Louis wasn't buying it. The wheels were still turning, and they were well greased. Louis braced himself for just about anything Simon might throw at them.

Simon did realize he had underestimated Louis— and he hated the fact that Louis knew it, and was trying to read it in his eyes. But he wasn't going to show it outwardly-not at all costs. He hadn't expected the young man to come forth like a crazed tiger about to break out of its cage, but that didn't mean he wasn't up to giving the boy a hard time. A _very_ hard time.

Simon's silence didn't faze Louis. Cowell would get over it eventually, he mused. The man looked like a pouting child, and Louis refused to try to coddle him or lure him into softening. That was Harry's way, not Louis.' Louis was straightforward and direct, because he didn't feel Simon deserved to receive the quiet obedience he expected, and had gotten for too long. Harry wasn't ignorant, but he tended to be too compromising, and Louis didn't want to see the mincemeat Simon might try to make out of him. So Louis resolutely refused to kiss Simon's ass. Those days were long gone.

Simon decided to try yet a different strategy. "I don't want you boys doing this," He was going to make one last effort to talk some sense into them, or rather what he deemed as sense.

"Nothing you can do. We'll go talk to Niall and Liam after we leave here," said Louis cryptically. Again, Simon knew what they were insinuating. All four boys could certainly decide to buy out their contracts, and Simon's hands would be tied.

"If you want to throw your careers away, be my guest," Simon baited, unable to put a plug in his mouth. It was a major shortcoming of his—keeping his mouth shut when circumstances called for it.

Louis began to step around Simon's desk—the only thing that was an obstacle in Louis' way of wiping that self- satisfied smirk off Simon's face with a fist.

Harry blocked Louis, knowing Louis wouldn't lay a finger on him. Louis tried to bulldoze his way around Harry, who grabbed him around the waist from behind.

"He's scum," Harry whispered into Louis' ear. "Let's not stoop to his level."

Harry's voice had always served as a soothing balm for Louis' nerves and also his frustrations, but Louis was boiling. Simon had risen from his own chair, heedful not to show it, but truly apprehensive. The boy was strong, and everyone knew it. His arms, his thighs, were rock hard, and the fact that he was furious would afford him the adrenaline to make him even stronger. That wasn't lost on Simon.

Louis made a half-hearted effort to break free, but then took Harry's next words to heart. "Let's walk out of here with dignity and let him stew awhile, yeah?" added Harry, still whispering in Lou's ear too quietly for Simon to hear. His words were completely logical and grounded.

Louis took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Simon would be miserable when they left. He would worry, of that there was no doubt. He'd likely fuss and pace and tear his hair out. And Louis didn't want to end up being sued because he'd hit Simon. Harry's suggestion was completely reasonable. This was the perfect time to split.

"Right, we'll be talking to you later. Count on it," promised Louis with a pointed smirk, abruptly turning and walking out, Harry hot on his heels.

They sat in the Rover for a while; maybe fifteen minutes, until Louis was calm enough for Harry to start driving.

"Let's go tell Niall and Liam everything. They need to know it all _now,"_ Louis said in a voice that was rough around the edges.

 _He'd been so fucking close to hitting Simon._

"Okay," Harry stepped on the gas. He put his hand on Louis' thigh reassuringly and squeezed.

A little later he said, "Lou, I have to pull over," pointing to a convenience store. "I need to have a wee."

Louis couldn't hold the laughter in, despite the stress of the day. Harry always said it that way. It was never piss or even pee. Always, it was "have a wee."

Harry was relieved to hear his boyfriend's cheerful laughter after that scare. He'd thought for sure Louis would get away from him in his rage, and beat the crap out of Simon. Luckily Louis hadn't put up a real fight, because Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to hold him back.

When Harry came back to the Rover after using the store's restroom, he chanced putting his arms around Louis. Louis could always pull away if he didn't want the affection. But he didn't pull away. He snuggled right into Harry.

"I just want us to be together. Like a normal couple, even though we happen to be gay. You're all I want, Harry. So much it's hurting."

Harry felt the hot tears burning behind his eyes. Louis wasn't fighting for himself; he was fighting for _them,_ and their love.

"And I'm proud of you, Hazza. You spoke up for us."

"Well, not as much as I should have, but it's a start."

"Don't let me go, Harry. Cause I'm tired of feeling alone." Louis was referring to the two years they'd been banned from each other, after first being best friends, and then lovers. Even with the other lads around, he'd been lonely. Harry had almost literally been torn from him . . .

"I won't, baby. I won't. No matter what it takes."

Louis swallowed the tears through the huge, immovable lump in his throat. It took him a couple of minutes to pull himself together.

"Right," he said when he found his voice. "When we get home to Liam and Niall, I'll also call Mr. Meyers and fill him in."

As they walked in the door, Niall was busy eating a bag of biscuits, which he dropped carelessly on the counter and abandoned as soon as he laid eyes on them—the only time Louis had ever seen Niall discard food before it was all gone. They told Niall and Liam everything—from how they hid out in Sweden clear through their meeting with Simon. Minus the sex, of course.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Niall, shaking his head in amazement.

"So you guys just walked out without any kind of resolution?" Liam asked about their visit to Simon's office, admiring what a superb job his band members had done.

Harry and Louis nodded in tandem.

"That's impressive. I bet you're thirsty, yeah?" Liam got up and got Harry and Louis each a glass of water along with a cup of tea without being asked.

"Thanks, man," uttered Harry.

"So you almost cold cocked Simon?" asked Niall, sufficiently over his shock to be able to grill them about it. "Did you come really close to it?"

"Not that close," shrugged Louis. "I didn't try that hard because I didn't want any legal problems on top of the issues we already have."

"I suppose Simon will be talking to the PR team, his lawyer and God knows who else," contemplated Liam, "to see if there's any way around this. I think he'll be hard pressed though, to get a leg to stand on. Gotta give kudos to you guys. Sounds like you said all the right things."

Harry smiled, and Louis pursed his lips. "I don't trust Simon and Modest! not to do somethin' dirty," Louis said half to himself.

"Like what?" asked Liam.

"Oh, try to force us to bend to his will in some way. I don't have any ideas how he'd do it, but Simon seems to find a way to _convince_ people that his way is the only way."

"Mofos," grumbled Niall, referencing Simon and his team.

"Yeah, well, it's official now then? Harry and Louis are a couple?" Liam beamed at the both of them.

Harry and Louis both smiled and nodded.

"It's a thing. _We're_ a thing," Harry inserted with a laugh. A sincere laugh, as his eyes met Louis.'

"It doesn't bother you?" asked Louis.

"Are you kiddin'? You two were meant to be since the day you met. I'm glad it's full on now. We knew about you guys sneakin' around back in earlier days," Liam raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," injected Niall. "I kinda ship you guys like the fans do," he admitted. So Niall appeared to have lost some of his embarrassment about the situation.

"So what about the concert tomorrow? What's gonna happen?" Liam wanted to know.

Louis and Harry both shrugged. "I have to call me lawyer now and tell him how things went, and ask his advice on how to handle things tomorrow. Thanks for the reminder, Li," Louis pulled his phone out. No reason to leave the room. They all knew the score, and Louis actually felt better having them all here.

Getting Mr. Meyers on the phone was no easy feat. The man was busy all day; in fact, Louis got the feeling he rarely even had time for lunch. When, after being on hold for fifteen minutes, he finally got through, Mr. Meyers was apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Louis, but I had to finish up with a client," he explained.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry I called so late. I'm surprised you're still at the office."

"Oh, no need to apologize. I sometimes I don't get home until nine. How did your meeting go with Mr. Cowell?"

"Shitty," said Louis, not bothering to filter his language.

"Did you get anywhere?"

"Nope." Louis gave Mr. Meyers the low-down, leaving nothing out.

"Hmmm . . . I suppose he'll call you in again before the concert. He'll _have_ to, otherwise he won't know what to expect from you two at the show," Mr. Meyers reflected out loud.

"Yeah we could throw some lovely curve balls at him, or even worse . . . " Louis didn't go into detail, but derived quite a bit of satisfaction at the thought that he and Harry could become frightfully lovey dovey at the concert.

Mr. Meyers caught Louis' drift seamlessly. The man never deviated from his dignified way, never joked around excessively or was anything but professional. "Yes, and he'll be fearful of that. I doubt he'll wait long to call you. Probably first thing in the morning," was his estimation.

"Well, I'm holdin' firm."

"And you should. He'll have to cave. There's not much else he can do in this short a span of time. He has less than twenty-four hours until the concert. And I'm glad you didn't assault him," Mr. Meyers said emphatically. "That would have made things much more complex than they already are—and would have put you in a bad light."

"I know. At least I had me head on straight enough not to give in to the urge. And it was a _fierce_ urge, let me tell you!" Louis emphasized.

"I imagine so. He was quite exasperating just to speak to on the phone. But I have to say that you don't need a fist fight with him. Your smarts will guide you. Of anyone I can think of, taking into account your young age and with your limited experience, I'd be predisposed to trust your judgment. You'll beat him if anyone can."

Louis took a deep breath, not expecting the compliment, and savoring it, its delicious flavor pleasing his palate.

"I just regret that I wasn't able to gain ground with him," the attorney continued. "I'll call him tomorrow morning if you'd like. I'll leave it up to you."

"I think we'll just wait, and if he doesn't call by say, nine, Harry and I will pay him another visit."

"And we'll go with you!" Liam announced, totally jarring Louis.

"Yep, I'm in too!" seconded Niall.

Mr. Meyers chuckled. "Sounds like you've got a lot of support behind you. Keep me posted. If you need me there too, just let me know."

As Louis disconnected the call, Liam and Niall closed in on himself and Harry, literally as if they subconsciously wanted to form a protective wall. They each had a resolute look on their faces. Liam spoke up.

"Niall and I talked while you guys were still in Sweden, and remember how you told us you and Harry would buy out your contracts if necessary? Well, if it comes down to it, we'll do the same. And we want Simon to know that. That's why I suggested us going with you."

Louis and Harry were speechless. Even though they had briefly discussed it, and knew Niall and Liam would support them in any way they could, actually hearing them say the words—that they'd buy out their own contracts, just floored them.

Louis felt that familiar lump in his throat, and feared he'd actually started sobbing. Harry was already tearing up, his eyes shiny and looking like they'd overflow.

"You'd actually do that?" Louis asked.

Liam and Niall nodded with no hesitation.

"Of course we would," announced Niall proudly. "We're all in this together."

Who could ask for more faithful, loyal band mates and friends?

"I have confidence it won't come down to that, but thanks, guys," said Louis, wanting to say more, but not trusting himself not to break down.

"Like your attorney said, I never doubted you either, Louis," stated Harry. "After all, you're Superman, and you'll save the day."

Louis wished he had half the confidence in himself that Harry had in him.

When Harry and Louis had finished their tea, avoiding more talk of Simon at Harry's request for the time being, and instead discussed tomorrow's show with Liam and Niall, Louis knew it was time to tell his mother the truth—the whole truth.

Then he saw the missed message from her on his phone, and guilt infiltrated him again. He hadn't called her when they'd arrived, and here it was, nearly nine at night! Without even taking the time to listen to her message, he took action.

He and Harry immediately Skyped her, after Louis had briefed Harry that he thought they should tell her their status. Harry was gung-ho. Facing Louis' mother was nothing after facing Simon, after all.

Niall and Liam busied themselves in the kitchen, making some nachos so Harry and Louis wouldn't feel any self-consciousness.

"Mum! Sorry I didn't call you as soon as we touched down. Had some . . . critical stuff to attend to," explained Louis.

"Oh, Lou . . . you're okay, aren't you?"

"Yeah, everythin's fine."

His mother sighed in relief. "Oh, good. I was worried, but I told myself that no news was good news," she smiled to see Harry was sitting beside Louis.

"Hi Harry! Did you two have a good time in Sweden?" she asked.

"Hi Jay," Harry waved and smiled, flashing his dimples. "We sure did."

"Didn't you hear about us staying a few days longer than the others?" asked Louis, puzzled.

"Oh, you did? No . . . actually, I haven't been watching the news or anything. So much negativity. I suppose it was probably covered by the press, yeah?"

"Yeah, that's a bit of an understatement," said Louis wryly. "Harry and I are . . . together, mum."

Louis waited for the shocked gasp. It never came. Just a fond, serene smile.

"Oh Louis, Harry . . . I know. I've known since you two were at the X-Factor house," her smile was a little bit cunning.

"You have?" Louis reflected that he'd probably known _she'd_ known, but hadn't admitted it even to himself.

"Yes, and I supported you all the way. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. Then when you two suddenly started ignoring each other, I knew something had gone awry. Again, I was waiting for you to tell me."

 _His mother understood, and she supported them._

Louis' voice came out husky. "Yeah, mum," he rasped. "We're in love, you see. It's lovely, and it _was_ lovely, until . . . Simon and management . . . well, I guess it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to you, and the result was they banned us from interacting whatsoever.

Jay sighed, her brow knitted, sorrow peeking through her pained smile.

"Anyway, we split from the band and hid out in Sweden for a few days. The other lads have been back for a while. We just flew in today. We confronted Simon today, mum. Told him we want to come out. The contract states nothing about us not being able to be close like we used to be. I know this is a lot to flood you with all at once . . . "

Jay was quiet for a few moments. "Your attorney, Mr. Meyers, is it?" Jay asked.

"Yes, we contacted him. He thinks we're doing a good job of it. Nothing was resolved with Simon, but it will be. There's nothing he can do to keep us apart."

Jay's smile was now as bright as the day Louis had learned how to ride a bike.

"Oh honey, I'm so happy for you two! Brilliant! So you'll announce it at the concert tomorrow?"

"I'm hoping for that," Louis reached over and took Harry's hand, Harry having left it up to him to show any kind of affection in front of Louis' mother.

"We'll likely have another meeting with Simon tomorrow morning, with Liam and Niall there to back us up."

He didn't mention the part about buying out their contracts, as it wasn't at all likely to happen, and he didn't want to distress his mum if he didn't have to.

"Louis, please call me after you have your meeting with Simon. I so hope that all goes well for you two and that you can announce your love. I also want to say that I've always thought you two were the cutest couple! I'm full on chuffed you're together."

She was absolutely beaming, and Louis knew right then that his mother's happiness concerning his relationship with Harry was a sign that everything would fall in place.

"You two look so good together!" she gushed, peering closely at their clasped hands and the looks of mutual bliss on their faces.

Harry rested his head on Louis' shoulder, his eyes glittering and his captivating dimples putting on a show all their own.

"We're a _thing,_ Jay!" Harry proclaimed. "He's my Superman."

Jay had witnessed the hurt in Louis over the last two years, and though she'd tried to get him to tell her what was the matter on many occasions, he hadn't opened up about Harry. He just hadn't been ready.

"Yeah, we're a thing, mum. And I'm buzzin'!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Notifications of my last chapter (chapter 18) were, for some reason, not sent out. So be sure to read chapter 18 first if you didn't receive notification. Thank you.**

"Can we Skype my mum now?" asked Harry, his eyes widened and pupils dilated with eagerness.

"Of course. You know you don't have to ask, Haz," Louis encouraged Harry by placing his hand on his waist. Every touch from Louis, no matter how slight, set Harry's veins on fire, and he gulped a sharp intake of breath, which Louis didn't miss.

"Yeah, let's do it now. That way we can go to bed afterward," murmured Louis, under the pretense that they'd have to be bright in the morning when they went to see Simon, but truth was, he really wanted to cuddle with Harry as soon as possible. Nothing felt better in this world than the comfort of Harry's arms around him. He'd gone so long without. He craved that, not knowing what tomorrow would bring with Simon.

Anne also had not known when they'd flown in, but she'd waited for Harry to call her, knowing he would when he could. Harry could always be counted on. Sometimes she, like Jay, didn't care for watching the news, but for different reasons. Anne always feared something would happen to Harry, and she didn't want to find out in that way. A little morbid, yes, but Anne was high strung and a natural worrier.

She and Jay were close, and had come to an agreement to the point that they had banned their spouses and other children from telling them if ever they should hear any bad news via the media when the lads were away. A personal phone call would be the only way they'd want to hear anything disturbing. Jay had agreed to it, knowing about Anne's fears. They hadn't told the boys the extent of their little agreement, because both lads were very compassionate and protective when it came to their mothers, and they, in turn, hated it when their mothers worried. Not a good scenario all the way around.

"Mum, we're back in L.A.," Harry announced, and Anne's face brightened. Her relief was apparent. They exchanged the usual greetings, Anne asking the usual questions, inquiring how the boys were, but also watching them like a hawk, as if she was expecting something, hoping to hear something, perhaps.

When Harry finally presented the subject of himself and Louis, Anne held up a hand, grinning in spite of herself.

"I'm overjoyed! I've talked to Jay, and please don't get upset with us for talking about it. The two of us have shared our delight about your friendship all this time . . . and we both knew it was more, yeah?"

Well, that took care of having to explain it to her, and Harry blew out a big breath of relief. That also explained her expectant expression. She seemed fine with it- Anne was open minded and had always loved Louis, so he hadn't really expected an extreme reaction anyway.

"We just got off Skype with her," said Harry. "And she also let us know that she's known for some time. And I'm not . . . um, surprised that the two of you talked about it."

It was awkward, to say the least, to tell your mother you were gay, and your best friend was your boyfriend.

"Thank you, lads, for not being upset about it. I'm as thrilled as she is." Apparently their mothers had grown used to the idea some time ago, and Harry supposed his mother had been as concerned as Jay had when the lads had started to avoid each other. But they hadn't stuck their noses into it—they'd left the lads to themselves to work things out.

Harry went on to tell her about their meeting with Simon tomorrow, explaining also about why they'd been distant with each other, even though he knew Jay would tell her anyway. He ended it by telling her their plans to come out.

" _Oh my!_ What a huge step for you two! I hope it goes as well as it possibly can. You lads have been close for such a long time for a reason. You were meant to be together." Her words were like softened butter being gently spread on their nerves.

"So Jay and I will be able to see your coming out on Youtube after the concert?" she asked anxiously.

"We're not sure it'll be _this_ concert, but hopefully, one soon, on this tour. We don't have all the details yet," and Harry went on to explain that things were still in the planning stages. And of course, they didn't mention the contracts to her. There was already enough for their mums to chew over as it was.

What a day it had been! When they ended the call, Harry and Louis were ready for bed. And not in separate rooms anymore. Of course there was no way would Simon know, and the other lads would keep their lips buttoned.

"Don't you want some nachos first?" asked Niall, his mouth already stuffed and overflowing with them, a random layer of them also on the kitchen floor and counter top. Liam stepped on one, crunching it loudly beneath his bare foot, and causing him to swear quietly.

"Nah, we're tired, unless you want some, Haz?" asked Louis.

Harry shook his head. They had grabbed fast food on the way home from Simon's office.

"Let the lovebirds go to bed, Niall," teased Liam, his eyes bright. Harry and Louis promptly disappeared, Harry steering Louis inside, and closing the bedroom door- which happened to be Harry's room, firmly behind them.

Harry loved it when Louis touched and caressed his face or hair, or pretty much any part of him. They lay on the bed together, Louis' hands tunneling through his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he was so often wont to do. Harry closed his eyes, slipping into the feline that he was when it came to affectionate petting from his boyfriend. He'd missed this _so much_. Louis' fingers coaxed away his stress like magic.

"Bloody nervous about tomorrow?" asked Harry. And Louis, the stoic that he was, wanted to deny it, but lying was not the right way to start off their renewed relationship.

Yeah, a little. And we also have to tell Simon about us moving in together," Louis reminded him, having forgotten to mention it himself.

"Oh shit, that's right."

"Just another obstacle we'll overcome. You make me strong. When I'm not with you, I'm weaker. There's nothing I'm runnin' from. We're going to get through it by remembering how much of our love has been wasted. From now on, we're a united front. Deal?"

"Deal," agreed Harry, smiling at how the lyrics Louis had laced into it were so applicable.

"Those lyrics were about us when I wrote that song, and although not in the right order, they fit right in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They made out and talked alternately for a long time before somehow falling asleep during a lull between the kissing and conversation. But that was alright. They needed the rest—tomorrow was going to be a bitch.

Bright and early, Louis' phone woke him from his slumber. Knowing instantly who it was, he coughed a few times and cleared his throat, hoping to make it sound as if he'd already been awake, and answered with his voice only faintly gravelly.

"Can you and Harry come in this morning?" Not even a hello! But that was Simon—blunt, brusque and gruff.

Louis looked over at Harry, who was staring at him, stroking Louis' forearm that held him partially upright on the bed while his other hand held his phone.

"Uh, let me check our schedule," Louis couldn't resist being flip, simply because Simon was such an ass.

"No need to be glib," ground out Simon.

"We can be there in an hour. And . . . by the way, Niall and Liam are coming too."

That silenced Simon in a jiffy. "Fine," he finally grumbled.

Louis loved it—making Simon squirm. Cowell finally getting a dose of his own medicine. It was about time.

The idea Harry had voiced at yesterday's meeting came to the forefront of Louis' mind, and he informed and coached the other lads as necessary. He had to do it fast, as they all had to shower and get ready, eating cereal almost on the run. But luckily it was a simple straightforward concept, and didn't take long.

They walked into Simon's office single file at nine o'clock sharp, all with a resolute, warrior-type, no nonsense attitude, Louis having briefed them. Liam agreed with Louis about what needed to be said, and his presence helped to calm everyone. Niall had to be given a bit of a pep talk, as he tended to be more like Harry—demure and humble in Simon's presence. Liam was Daddy Direction already, and was used to taking charge without losing his cool.

"Let's get on with it," Louis growled at Simon as soon as Simon had ordered two extra chairs for Liam and Niall, and the door was closed behind the assistant. Louis continued to assert himself, not giving Simon a chance to begin talking. It was better that way. It gave Louis leverage.

"Harry and I have talked to the others, and we've come up with a plan. We'd like to do this 'coming out' and see how it goes. The response will be nothing but very pleased, if not ecstatic fans. But if, in the event the fans are not happy enough for you, Liam and Niall have volunteered to buy out their contracts, just as Harry and meself will."

The room was so quiet that the hushed hum of the air conditioning sounded like a jet engine to Louis' ears. All his senses were on alert. Kind of a fight or flight reaction. Now, if he could just stay in fight mode . . . or to be more specific, maintain control of the proceedings.

Louis took the opportunity to glance around Simon's impressively large office—noting his huge oak desk, obviously freshly polished, oak filing cabinets, the finest wool carpeting, the solid glass wall overlooking Hollywood, the expensive knick knacks. Everything quietly screamed money. You could almost smell it.

Simon's pride was on the line, everyone knowing that Simon's ego was huge. The chances of Simon letting it go as far as them buying out their contracts was virtually nil, but there was still that tiny speck of a chance, and that had Louis very anxious, because that would mean he and Harry could potentially put Niall and Liam's careers at risk.

Simon was not as composed as he'd been yesterday. He tried to act unaffected, but his lack of confidence was showing through, and he knew the lads could see it. They had him over a barrel, and he struggled to preserve his dignity. And so, he, instead of surrendering and yielding to the boys, pretended to consider Louis' idea as if it was, in part, his own idea. He scratched his head, stretched, and generally stalled for time. Even yawned once, feigning detachment. Then he clasped his hands together on his desk in front of him and adopted a contemplative look.

"We could . . . try it out. Might bring in more publicity, more fans," he said thoughtfully. It was all an act, but at least he'd come away with his dignity intact. Then quickly, "What if it doesn't work though, and fans are lost?" Simon raised his eyebrows abruptly, penetrating Louis with a piercing stare, making another attempt to throw Louis off balance.

It was unforeseen, but it didn't faze Louis. "It'll work, trust me. It's sincere, and the fans'll know it."

"On every site I can think of-Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, you name it, there are thousands upon thousands of Larry shippers," Liam spoke up. Niall nodded his head vigorously, along with Harry.

Louis remained solemn, staring Simon down.

Simon wanted to appear as if he was in command at all times. And this didn't go over well with him—these four lads trying to outsmart him, stay a step ahead of him. They were little more than boys, in his eyes. He shrunk from the idea that they were no longer teens, but men now, and intelligent men at that. The years had just slipped right by him. He felt irritable, disgruntled. He wanted control, damn it!

There was no way around it though. As much as he resented Louis' smart ass attitude, the kid did have a point. Simon had a very difficult time admitting it, but he held some grudging admiration for the lot of them. They were sticking together, even coming in to face him together.

"We can try it. But if it has a negative effect, remember, we can't take it back," he admonished.

"Of course we can," Harry spoke up, grabbing everyone's attention. "We can just pretend we had a lover's spat, and then broke up."

Louis didn't like the sound of that. It had sounded almost like Harry expected something to go wrong. He wanted _positivity_ from Harry, not compromise with Simon, feigned or not.

Simon considered Harry's statement, drumming his fingers on the table, his rose gold Rolex watch gleaming as it caught the harsh overhead lighting. Louis watched on curiously, musing how much better he liked Harry's vintage Rolex—because it had so much more character and whimsy, and wondering if Simon knew how the thunderheads in his eyes were so apparent. He needed work on his poker face, Louis thought wryly.

Simon really was not liking Louis much these days, though he'd been Simon's favorite in earlier days. He just couldn't stand the thought of Louis being right where this Larry thing was concerned. He couldn't dominate him anymore. Louis was aware it was pure ego on Simon's part. But what could _he_ do about it? Nothing, absolutely nothing. It was Simon's hang-up, not his.

"The concert is less than twelve hours away. A decision has to be made _now_ ," emphasized Simon, again grasping for control.

As if they all didn't already know that!

"I have to agree with Harry and Louis. It'll make _everyone_ happy. The fans, Harry and Louis, us, and you," it was Liam speaking to Simon, and they all perked up their ears. He made a good argument. "It's a win-win situation," added Liam, looking and sounding every bit the convincing, level-headed, reasonable guy he was. Reminding Simon that the boys had minds of their own now—weren't the virtual babies they had been when Simon had first met them.

Simon, however, didn't want to be a push-over, and he longed to refuse to let the boys think that he agreed with their idea or that they'd swayed him. He just couldn't find it within himself to bow to their wishes. He was too used to being at the controls. He was the captain of this ship!

"I'm very angry with you," Simon spouted, not quite knowing what else to say.

"What's new? You're always angry with at least one of us," Louis glowered as he said the words.

Simon ran a restless hand roughly through his hair. The kid had spunk, that was true, but he was also a little too sassy and rebellious. The other boys called him Sassamaster for a reason, and Simon had seen evidence of it in the past, but now that this deadlock had come up, for lack of a better word, the boy was becoming right defiant. The nickname was well deserved.

"I don't think I've asked too much of you—any of you," Simon looked around at the four of them, meeting equally unsympathetic expressions from every one of them.

"Is this really . . .really too much to ask?" inquired Liam. "This isn't a simple crush, trust me. I've lived in the same house with them for all this time, and even though they never came out and told us, we all knew. We've also seen how haunted they were when you forbade them from even talking, let alone any form of affection. Although they put on a good act onstage, they weren't themselves anymore. It's real love if I've ever seen it."

Louis shot a grateful look Liam's way. He'd make it up to him somehow.

"They were like peppers walking around with no stuffing," Niall contributed.

"What?" Liam knitted his eyebrows at Niall.

"You know, like stuffed peppers with no stuffing," explained Niall.

"Ah," Liam now understood. "They were just shells of themselves, is that what you're saying Niall?"

Niall nodded eagerly, proud of his analogy.

"And they really were," agreed Liam. "They were empty, and although they went through the motions, their hearts weren't in it."

Simon wasn't a sap, but even he comprehended what it must be like to be suddenly separated from the one you've grown extremely close to and not be permitted to interact with- or at least not when you might be discovered. Simon wasn't dumb enough not to know they'd probably slunk around in the night to be together.

Most people's love would have dwindled and vanished under such strict conditions. Or run stagnant. Especially people as young and Harry and Louis had been.

But that hadn't been the case. It had endured since whenever it had started, and, now that he thought about it, Simon suspected it had started only a short time into their X-Factor days. In fact, Harry had physically picked Louis up on the stage when they found out they would be a band, and carried him around with Louis' legs wrapped around his waist. Strangers don't do that. That had been _years_ ago.

Simon might be a ruthless, hard-hearted man at times (well, if he were to be honest, it was _most_ of the time) but he did have a heart. Perhaps it was a bit shrunken and buried under debris, and of a cooler temperature than most other peoples,' but it was there.

But one thing he was sure about—being bested by the insurgent that was Louis Tomlinson was a major blow, and he was not going to allow the ungrateful rogue to gain that satisfaction. Simon was vain, and he absolutely would not tolerate the abuse and mockery he felt Louis was throwing at him, nor, even worse, the blackmail.

 _Let us be together, or else._

The boy's thankless and nasty temperament could not be tolerated. No one else dared push Simon like this. How to curb the blackguard?

But he couldn't lose the entire band either. The price was too high. How many more millions could he make off them? Simon sighed, running the palm of his hand down the center of his face. There was no other way out. He'd contacted his attorney, talked to other management, conversed with people in the industry he held in high regard, and only one thing kept surfacing over and over—he had failed to put the essentials in the contract.

Without those specific words outlined in the contract, he was up shit creek, indefensible. He'd never expected something like this to happen. How could you anticipate this? Look at how long he'd been in the business, and how much success he'd had. He should know better by now. He'd just never had this particular issue come up before.

"If I'm to consider this . . . endeavor of yours," Simon started out, hating every word that came out of his mouth but helpless to change things, "I demand to be treated with respect. This uppity attitude of yours, Louis, cannot be accepted, nor can I stomach it."

Louis felt a twinge of hope grip him. Sounded as if Simon was softening, maybe on the verge of relenting.

"I'll give you respect if you give me yours," offered Louis. He was quite serious too. If Simon was willing to let them give it a try, without a fight, legal or otherwise, he'd swallow a little of his pride if he had to.

"You can give it a go tonight," and these words were excruciatingly difficult for Simon to utter, because he knew the lads had won. At least this round.

"See what the audience does when you do . . . whatever . . ."

Louis smiled grimly. It wasn't as if he and Harry were going to drop to the floor and do something indecent.

"Just don't overdo it," added Simon.

"Define _overdoing_ it," Louis sounded spookily like the time he'd said, "Define girlfriend."

"Damn it, Louis. Don't you have any common sense? What do _you_ think is overdoing it?" demanded Simon, fast running out of patience.

"Let me be precise, to avoid misunderstandings. Holding hands briefly here and there, arms around each other's waists a couple of times, a quick kiss at the end of the concert for starters. Future concerts can be a little more involved."

Simon felt like throwing his hands up in the air. Wouldn't this seem rather extreme after they'd been avoiding each other for so long?

"And what if the audience is mortified, or has any kind of bad reaction? What if people walk out?"

They'd just been over this, for Christ's sake! "They won't," emphasized Louis with conviction. "There have been countless times where they screamed if Harry and I accidentally touched, or even just looked at each other for a second when singing. They did this both before and after we stopped interacting."

"True, true," said Liam, Niall's face, cheery and with red splotches splashed on his cheeks from barely bridled happiness for his friends, nodded with enough momentum to move not only his head, but his shoulders as well.

"If you get a bad reaction though, will you stop immediately, and go back to how you were before?" Simon waited on Louis' answer, trying not to look too terribly anxious, or like he was hanging on for dear life.

"Immediately," responded Louis. "Because it _won't happen."_ Harry was now nodding almost as vigorously as Niall, and Liam was smiling just as much as Niall and Harry. Louis, however, didn't want Simon to know of his relief, especially not this quickly. He refused to act especially grateful. He also realized he'd contradicted himself. He'd said they'd all buy out their contracts if he and Harry couldn't come out—and this was presumably for any reason. But he was so sure of the way the fans would react that he didn't even bother to mention it again. It wouldn't be necessary.

He knew they'd be a huge hit at the concert tonight, and he could hardly bear to wait that long. He'd dreaded concerts for so long now that this felt so fresh and new, like they were starting from the beginning all over again. He was so exhilarated with the thought of touching Harry again, exciting the audience, boosting their hopes. And then, during a concert soon in the future, _they would come out._

"You're brilliant, Lou, just massively brilliant!" chortled Harry as they walked out of Simon's office.

"I had to do it, Harry. If I hadn't, it might have killed the flame between us forever. We couldn't go on like that," he said quietly, so Liam and Niall couldn't hear.

"You're my Superman, Boo Bear," Harry said affectionately, slipping his arm around Louis' waist. Louis made a mental note to himself to lay down the law when they got home, about Harry saying stuff about them pretending to break up if the audience disapproved. But for now, he leaned into Harry, happy to snuggle into his side.

"Get a room, you two!" Liam said gruffly, but with an affectionate smile on his face.


	20. Chapter 20

"Why'd you say that, Haz?" Louis was disturbed, and not hiding it well as they sat side by side in the backseat of the car on the way home from Simon's office. Harry glanced at the driver, who seemed oblivious to their discussion. Even so, he kept his voice down.

"What? What'd I say?"

Louis followed his lead and spoke quietly. "I mean, you did so well at the meeting with Simon . . . but . . . something . . . hurt me. You said we could act as if we'd had a lover's spat and broke up if the fans didn't take to our coming out." Louis' sad face tore at Harry's heart.

"Oh Lou!" Harry's arm that was already around Louis' shoulders, moved to his waist and pressed him closer to his side.

"I didn't mean it! I was just, like, tryin' to appease Simon."

"But . .. it sounded so, so .. . like it was . . . easy for you to say, easy for you to do." Louis found himself tongue tied and feeling like bursting into tears.

"Louis, oh Louis," Harry hung his head, then just as quickly turned Louis' face to his with a gentle hand on his cheek. "You said earlier you didn't think we could go on like that . . . like we'd been for two years, and I feel the same. I couldn't go back to that. Please believe me that I was trying to make things easier for us with Simon . . . so he'd be easier to persuade . . . that's all," Harry trailed off helplessly.

"We don't need to persuade him though, Haz. Remember, he's got naught to stand on."

"But you said to him that you'd absolutely go right back to actin' as we had before if the response from fans wasn't good!" Harry protested. "Isn't that the same thing?"

With a gasp, Louis realized he had, indeed, said that. They both had, although in slightly different language.

"Oh my God, Harry. I did! And here I was feelin' so bad about what _you_ said!"

"Ah, hedgehog. We were both just tryin' our hardest to make our dream come true. It's as simple as that. We both know we would refuse to go back to the old way. Neither of us would ever let sommat like that happen. C'mere, bean," and he pulled at Louis, even though they couldn't possibly be any closer unless they were one person.

 _Who could be more understanding and easygoing as Harry?_

"I'm sorry baby." Louis rested his head on Harry's shoulder, tilting his head up to kiss Harry's neck.

"Don't apologize, Lou. I'll never hurt you. We jus' need to keep communicatin,' and . . . um, you'd better stop kissing me neck. You know how hot it gets me."

"After the concert tonight, Curly," there was a lot of promise packed in Louis' suddenly-turned-sultry voice.

"Oh yeah, Lou. Sign me up for your lovin', _please."_

As soon as they got home they called Simon, stating that they were planning to buy a house together. They _told_ him, they didn't ask. It was to be part of the deal, and even though Simon sighed long and hard, he agreed without resistance.

Another giant step toward freedom, another victory. An enormous, massive victory. Liam and Niall cheered their approval after the phone call was completed.

* * *

Stepping onto the stage at the Staples Center in Hollywood that night was an earth rocking experience for every one of the boys, but ever more so for Harry and Louis. Simon was backstage, then slipped into a front row seat shortly before the performance. How was that for discomfort, and making you feel scrutinized? He had a snooty, disapproving look on his face as if he expected them to fail.

Louis and Harry had agreed that they'd do their best to ignore Simon's presence, and act as naturally as they would if he wasn't there. He was _not_ going to discourage them by examining their every move, because they refused to let it distract them.

They agreed that everything had to be natural. No acting, as that could lead to awkwardness and not being true to themselves. And the one thing they wanted more than anything was to be genuine and sincere. Their fans deserved that.

Their reward was that instead of nervousness predominating, excitement overflowed. They could hardly wait. They had no clearly defined plans, and had purposely not discussed anything in particular. They were flying by the seat of their pants, agreeing to go with what they felt, and act on it without worrying what Simon or anyone else might think.

"Have faith in me, Harry. The fans will respond to us as they always have. Go with your gut, your instinct, and your love," Louis had said to Harry right before they had gone onstage. They had hugged several times beforehand, the crew backstage looking very bewildered by this drastic change in their behavior toward each other.

The opening notes to Girl Almighty started the night off on a lively note. At every concert, the lads wanted the fans to get right into the music, get their energy level up, and the lads had a special affinity for this song. And who _didn't_ love Girl Almighty?

Simon was forgotten almost immediately as Louis and Harry anticipated giving the audience a show that would go way past mere hints.

Louis kept Harry in his sights, feeling the situation out. He couldn't believe how much the music seeped into his very bones, made him feel light as air, and he couldn't help the genuine smile that kept stealing up on him and spreading across his face. This was the first time on stage he'd been truly happy in ages.

Harry's face was also broadcasting his state of mind. His emerald eyes glittered, his dimples flashed, and his stomach felt as if he were at the top of a roller coaster, preparing for the whipping turns and elation of the mind numbing euphoria of the unexpected.

It was better than a roller coaster. Miles better. Knowing all restrictions had been lifted, that they could even approach each other without fear of getting "too close" worked like a drug to the very-much-in-love lads.

They locked eyes a few times, but not for more than a few seconds, and it was from across the stage from each other, so not many of the fans witnessed it. Harry and Louis were biding their time. But when Happily began to play, the magic began to unfurl.

 _I don't care what people say when we're together_

 _You know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep_

 _I just want it to be you and I forever_

 _I know you wanna leave_

 _So baby be with me_

 _So happily_

 _Cause we're on fire_

 _We're on fire_

 _We're on fire now_

That was when they moved closer together. Not as a plan of action, but naturally. There didn't need to be a plan. It was better with nothing having been rehearsed. The lyrics acted like a magnet between them. The feeling was building steadily, and Harry slipped his arm around Louis, facing the audience with a smile that could knock the sun right out of the sky.

 _They were on fire._

The fans reacted, and Harry and Louis had known they would, but they'd had no clue how _strongly_ they would react. The fans seemed to freeze for a few seconds in numbed disbelief, and then they bounded into action. They clamped their hands over their mouths, jumping up and down, and _screaming._ God, how they screamed. The feeling was an atmosphere of virtual animation.

Harry and Louis smiled at each other with barely suppressed mutual astonishment. Harry pulled Louis a little closer, flush with his side, and the screams were now deafening. A roar seemed to take over the place—it felt as if the roof were coming down.

 _Gee, wonder what Simon thought of this?_

Girls pulled their hair, tears streaming from their eyes, clinging to each other as if they didn't have the strength to stand on their own, and looking faint.

 _Holy shit._ If they were to actually kiss, how many girls might fall on the floor in a dead faint? They'd better wait a while on that. The audience got the hint rather strongly just from that one song. There was a hum, a steady buzz that could be felt all over the auditorium when the song ended. A kind of muted thunder.

The exhilaration, the intoxication of the concert, his physical closeness to Louis, plus the fans' reaction caused a physical response in Harry. He got an almost instant erection. There was nowhere to hide though, so he acted as normally as he could, knowing some of the audience had to notice it. The fact that his skinny jeans were black helped, but their tightness almost canceled that out. His cock pushed almost painfully against the front of his jeans and he felt his cheeks go pink. It was just his body reacting to the extreme emotions, but Louis was usually the one with that problem onstage.

Harry whispered, "My sunshine," into Louis' ear before they went into another song. This caused another round of hysteria in the audience. They were being watched attentively now. They hadn't whispered to each other in so long that the fans must have felt as if time was turning back on itself before their eyes. They hadn't heard what Harry had whispered, but their imaginations ran amok.

"Wait 'til we get home, bad boy," Louis whispered back, making Harry's erection throb.

Whenever they did a slow number, Louis had to force himself to not "fond" on Harry overly much. But neither one could help sending flirty glances each others' way. When it was time to sing "Little Things," Harry and Louis had no clue how to conduct themselves.

Should they do it the way they used to? With Harry's changing of the lyrics? Harry decided not to—not necessary, _yet._ They would be obvious enough as it was. And he was leaving the best for last.

"Little Black Dress" had Harry and Louis doing their much-loved cat walk, staying side by side, stride for stride, really moving out, and causing a scene in the audience every time they smiled at each other. Harry's eyes glowed as he looked on as Louis performed his bouncy, very cheeky walk that was attractive as hell. The lad seemed to own the world.

The concert ended with "Night Changes." Harry didn't quite serenade Louis, but did look at him often and obviously, and on the final line, "We will never change, me and you," he stared directly at Louis, who was barely two feet away, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind as to how he felt.

In that instant after the song ended, Harry and Louis closed in on each other, being of like minds. Harry's arms went around Louis' shoulders, and Louis' arms wrapped around Harry's waist, just the way they just to do, and they kissed. It only lasted two or three seconds, but that was all it took to bring the house down. The thunder of the crowd followed them as they walked off the stage, holding hands. The fans were still screaming at the top of their lungs fifteen minutes later.

The after party was a whirlwind that Harry and Louis had trouble navigating. Everyone, it seemed, came up to them to fire questions at them, marvel at the fact that they had flirted onstage for the first time in two years, or merely to congratulate them. Some even asked if it had just been a charade, or publicity stunt.

They hadn't seen Simon after the concert ended backstage, and figured he must be sulking somewhere in the shadows. They saw him at the after party, but he hugged the outskirts, and they knew that he probably didn't want to be there. If he hadn't shown up though, people would catch on to his disapproval. The man just couldn't stand being wrong.

While Harry and Louis didn't hang on each other, they didn't hesitate to stay together, in close proximity, touching briefly and often and smiling like virtual sunbeams at each other. Handling all the questions and speculation drained them quickly, and they, in turn, drained their glasses of booze.

When Louis went to use the restroom, Harry appeared out of nowhere and caught him in the hallway, before Louis could even so much as gasp, pushing him up against the wall and lifting his shirt.

"Harry! What're ya doin'?"

Harry's tongue dragged across one of his nipples. Louis gasped out loud this time.

"Gotta get you to lactate too, ya know. I can't be the only one," Harry was smiling slyly as he drew back for just an instant, and Louis could tell he was feeling good from the drinks they'd had. A buzzed Harry was a terribly affectionate, terribly exciting Harry.

Louis looked around frantically to make sure no one saw them. Luckily no one was in the immediate area, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't come around the corner at any second. That thought alone was arousing, but Harry's tongue won the honors of being the absolute _most_ arousing.

When Harry began to suck, Louis' vision went blurry. He helplessly closed his eyes. He was so weak, it felt so fucking good, tingles singing through his nerves, and Harry was so insistent that he couldn't fight him off even if he had wanted to. So he stood there, allowing Harry to suck on him, having resisted Harry through the entire concert, and his resistance had now officially fizzled out.

The booze made Louis' inhibitions melt away, and before he knew it, he and Harry were kissing feverishly. Wet and wild. God, but Harry was hungry. Still pressing Louis up against the wall. Gone were the restrictions Harry made upon himself in public. Louis loved this Harry, the _wild_ Harry that broke out only when they were alone, just as it had in days gone by. Louis was far past delighted. He wanted to shout it to the world. They might as well have done just that. They'd been obvious in front of about 20,000 people tonight. Nothing compared to some of their audiences that exceeded 60,000, but that would happen soon.

Thus, when Harry braced his hand on the wall above Louis' head, still crowding him greedily, and asked if he wanted to get out of there, Louis' response was instantaneous.

Still giddy and not completely in control of his senses because of the effect Harry had on him, Louis said, "I think we've stayed long enough, yeah? I mean, it's been an hour, and we made an appearance. That's all that matters, right?"

Harry smiled at Louis' logic. With Harry standing in front of him, Louis could see the younger lad's nipples, hardened under his black t-shirt.

"Right. Another one for the road?" he asked. Louis nodded happily. They each grabbed a final cocktail and slipped out of a side door after having called a driver, who appeared within ten minutes to take them home. They could have asked one of the many bodyguards there to give them a lift, or the chauffeur who had brought them here, but they didn't want to call attention to the fact that they were leaving.

They'd said good night discreetly to Niall and Liam. The other two had knowing smiles on their faces that they couldn't quite seem to squelch.

"Great job tonight, mates," said Liam softly, so no one would overhear. "You couldn't have done any better. Not so subtle, but not over the top either. In any case, you left the fans with no doubts."

"I thought it was perfect too!" Niall's cheeks were cherry red as he downed his drink in typical Irishman fashion, reaching for another without pause.

"We want to thank both of you," said Louis, "for the support you've given us—especially when we faced down Simon," Louis chose his words carefully, as he needed to let their band mates be aware of their appreciation. Harry had already thanked them earlier, straightaway, while Louis was fetching drinks. Harry never let a kind gesture slip by him, and had poured his gratefulness on so thickly that Liam had had to put a halt to his gushing.

"It's nothing you wouldn't have done for us, had it been the other way 'round," Liam had said simply.

On the way back, in the backseat of the Town car, things heated up again. All the way home, their lips rarely parted. It brought back memories of some of their lustier times back in the day, when they were still teenagers. It was every bit as intense, and possibly more so. Starting with gentle rubbing of their lips together, they whispered "I love yous" between kisses, until the kisses deepened, and then deepened even more, until Louis and Harry were breathing so roughly that they were sure the driver could hear them over the radio that played romantic sixties ballads. The perfect storm.

Rushing indoors, afraid of being spotted by paps, locking the front door, they laughed and raced to Harry's bedroom.

"That was _intense."_ Louis exclaimed, speaking of the kissing on the way home.

"You're not kiddin' babe. I almost came just kissing you!" laughed Harry. This statement made Louis' crotch tighten even more, his cock harder than it had been in years. It had, in fact, been hard for most of the after party.

"Really?" he asked, remembering that they hadn't even ground against each other or touched each other intimately.

"Really," confirmed Harry. "Remember, I don't lie."

They stripped down to their boxer briefs, flopping down on the bed. Harry rolled over on top of Louis.

"You're heavy! Get off me, you son of a bitch! You big oaf!" he mock complained. Harry just laughed. Louis pushed at his chest. Harry didn't oblige by getting up, or even budging, but did keep most of his weight on his forearms to keep from squashing Louis. He knew Louis wasn't serious about wanting him to back away. Louis was just playing games and trying to tease him, which he was very good at.

Their mingled sweat had a heady, seductive odor, but they felt sticky. "Shower," they said at the same time, and in a couple of minutes, were scrubbing each other under the warm spray. Tired, sore muscles from all the stage playing and running were eased. Both were more than eager to get back to bed.

After they had dried off, Louis turned off the light and pulled the heavy drapes, shrouding the room into complete blackness. He couldn't see a thing. It was good—Louis had plans.

"Brilliant," said Harry. "What are ya gonna do?"

"Wouldn't you bloody like to know? How about I show you?" Louis answered.

Then Louis turned the night into magic. His lips materialized out of nowhere, kissing lightly at Harry's lips. Step by step, he kissed Harry more thoroughly. Kissed him endlessly, making him sigh, and later, beg. But not before Louis nibbled his lower lip, then sucked it, then licked, demanding that Harry open his mouth. The kissing got almost fierce at one point, the two of them frantic for each other. They were both remembering the days they'd made love after every concert. It was a potent drug.

 _So many memories …_

Harry couldn't see what Louis was doing once their lips parted, and the next thing he felt was the ghosting of Louis' lips on his neck. Harry threw his head back, giving Louis free access. Louis licked, sucked and nuzzled; the goose bumps popping up on Harry's arms, a helpless whine gathering in his throat.

"Hungry for you, Luigi," murmured Harry.

"Mmm. Your nipples were hard all night," Louis informed Harry.

"It's a thing," responded Harry. "Even when you just look at me, they get stiff. Along with somethin' else. I was like cement when I put me arm around you tonight."

Louis couldn't see Harry's face in the dark, but he knew those dimples were flashing and his cheeks were pink. And nothing in the world excited him more than knowing he'd caused Harry to inadvertently advertise his state of arousal.

"Here's a secret for ya. I was sportin' a woody too," Louis assured him.

"Thanks for that, Tommo. I kinda felt like a freak . . . "

"You should never feel like a freak for showin' your love for me, no matter what form it happens to be in."

"Even a hard-on?"

"Even a hard-on."

Harry gathered Louis into his arms and sighed. Inwardly, they savored how pleased they were with the performance they'd put on tonight. Not only musically, but in letting people know that their love had never died.

Louis felt around in the dark until he found Harry's face again, and then held both cheeks in his hands, kissing the outer edge of Harry's lips, almost exactly where one of his dimples was. Harry scooted his body up tighter against Louis, soft contented noises flowing from his throat. That deep voice that he'd developed in the last few years-what a turn-on that was.

Louis' thoughts turned to making love. His mind wandered among the possibilities. He liked to switch roles now and then, as they had while in Sweden. He needed to be dominated at times. Maybe in the morning. One of the best things about it is that there were so many wonderful options. He knew Harry was all about the foreplay, just as much as the actual act itself. Putting off the orgasm until it was explosive. The concert itself had kicked the foreplay into motion already, and Louis had a craving to make tonight all about Harry.

The love turned Harry on just as much as the sex did, and Louis had learned, with Harry's help, how powerful his emotions could be. It was the biggest aphrodisiac around. Waiting, drawing it out . . . Harry had taught him, and he hadn't forgotten a thing. Harry had also taught him to love with everything he had in him, holding nothing back. This wasn't a one off, nor had it ever been.

Louis had been afraid he would never love again after the drama with Simon and management, and the resulting repercussions, fearing he had lost Harry for good. But with Harry now back in his life fully, it all returned in a flood as if it had never left; the love might have been put on hold, but it had clung to Louis' heart like a lifeline, waiting for the tide to ebb so Louis could regain his feet and find a way to shore- to coax Harry back into his life. Back home. And that is just what had happened. He wasn't going to blow it now.

Louis wasn't the same kid he'd been a few years ago. He might still be mischievous, but he was also more mature, and willing to do everything in his power to ensure Harry never slipped from his grasp again. For _any_ reason.

And so Louis began his seduction. He meant to have Harry begging for more and more of his love. His intention was to leave Harry with not the smallest doubt that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Harry had already proclaimed and demonstrated his love, but Louis wanted it carved in stone.

The anticipation rolled over him in waves. He nuzzled into Harry's neck, his breathing labored. Harry came alive, seeking the raw, uncensored Louis found only in the bedroom. Harry might admire the tough act Louis could put on in public, and it could even arouse him, but he most loved the stripped-down, vulnerable Louis, the Louis who left himself wide open to emotion, who trusted Harry even when his tears flowed.

"Let me make you feel good," Louis whispered. "Can we fall one more time? Stop the tape and rewind?" Louis smiled gently in the dark.

"We already have, Boo," And with those words Harry happily surrendered, abandoning any barricades that might have remained.


	21. Chapter 21

Louis blazed a tongue trail over Harry. Starting at his temples, he worked his way down to his cheeks, his chin, then throat, chest, upper arms, ribs, then belly. The entire while, Harry barely moved or made a sound. He was afraid the spell might be broken, and Louis would stop. Louis had him captivated. And he couldn't even see him. In stark, inky blackness, it was Louis' actions that held him enraptured.

Louis wasn't known for his patience, but he was working hard on it. He forced himself to slow things down because he knew Harry adored it. In the past, their lovemaking after a concert had been fevered and full of desperation. Harry knew Louis thrived on it. Louis had been untamed and almost out of hand, especially after concerts. It was wildly exciting, and something Harry had always awaited with a pounding heart. Harry actually loved it _both_ ways.

However, tonight, Louis had adopted a Styles approach, and Harry knew precisely why. Louis was trying to please Harry to the maximum, and prove to him that the love was more important to him than an animal-like pairing. The gesture caused a lump to grow in Harry's throat. Of course he knew Louis had always loved him. He'd never doubted it.

Two years had matured Louis, and he wanted to put Harry's needs first tonight. Not that he had been selfish in the past—not at all, it was just that Louis had always been overly excited by Harry and containing himself had been a monumental effort. Concerts brought out the primitive side of him.

Louis lifted his body and rose to Harry's mouth again, Harry taken aback for a moment. Even though Lou had slowed down, Harry had expected him to take care of business rather directly. But no . . . Louis' soft tongue massaged his own, little whimpers leaking from the older lad's lips, escaping into Harry's mouth.

Harry felt a little fuzzy yet from the cocktails they'd had, but it made the experience so sensual that he felt time was moving even more slowly, deliberately, and it was delightfully accommodating. He couldn't resist Louis' wicked mouth that was growing more demanding and more lascivious by the minute, despite the older lad's efforts to be smooth and unhurried.

It was exquisite, decided Harry. There wasn't another word for it that would do it justice. It was intimate, not frantic. Sensual, not desperate.

After some extended kissing, Louis trailed down the same path on Harry's body, but this time he included little licks to Harry's hip bones. Harry held his breath, but Louis came back up again, assaulting his mouth once more.

The third time, Louis included licks to Harry's thighs. Just a few with that moist, sweet tongue of his. He also fondled and sucked at Harry's nipples, lavishing them, causing Harry's breath to hitch over and over. The fourth time, Louis urged Harry to spread his legs by pressing his hands on the insides of his thighs. Harry eagerly complied. Then Louis' tongue went to work again—on the _inside_ of his thighs, but nowhere else.

By now Harry was beside himself. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. Louis was taking his time, leaving Harry wondering if anything was, in fact, going to happen at all, or if this teasing was going to go on for an eternity. He moaned helplessly, and Louis returned to his lips.

The adrenaline pumping through Harry was a continuous high. He'd never been this turned on before. A sense of almost debilitating urgency consumed him.

"Need you, Lou," he whispered. The beautiful man hovering over him offered too much temptation; and even though he couldn't see him in the dark, he knew how gorgeous he was.

"I want to take this slow, baby," was Louis' answer.

Okay, well Harry guessed he had no choice then. Trouble was, he was getting a little uneasy, wondering how he could keep from coming before Louis even touched him in a critical area.

Now Louis was sucking Harry's tongue into his mouth, grunting as he did so. They thrashed around some, and then Louis headed back down Harry's body again.

When Harry felt Louis' silky wet tongue touching the head of his cock out of nowhere, he cried out. It just materialized through no effort of Harry's, and Louis loved hearing it along with Harry's ragged breath.

Louis teased him by taking him into his mouth—just the head, sucking softly until Harry felt his orgasm approaching, then Louis would stop with perfect, precise timing. How many times Louis did this, Harry had no idea because he wasn't even capable of counting by now.

The licking up and down the sides and the ball licking was getting to be too much. Louis gave Harry a couple of really good, long sucks to make things even hotter, then arrived back at Harry's mouth. Harry was ready for him. He reached down, grabbed Louis' cock, and encouraged him to straddle his chest.

Louis practically fed his cock into Harry's mouth, and Harry could tell instantly how much this love play had turned Louis on. The lad was hard as iron, the pre-come abundant. Harry sucked him so hard, so greedily that his cheeks hollowed, the way they both liked it when they were close to orgasm.

Louis approached his climax very quickly, but pulled away promptly, going back to Harry's cock. They repeated this process many times. Every time one of them would be close, they'd switch, then go back to kissing.

Soon, both were balancing on the very edge of release, their lips swollen from all the kissing and sucking, and so they turned around so they could suck each other at the same time. The buildup had been so intense that it was only seconds later that they both came. This denying themselves caused splendid, long lasting explosions from both of them that was stronger than any previous episode either of them had had the delight of undergoing. Louis had barely gotten in a few licks and sucks, and Harry had deep throated Louis for what seemed like only an instant. The warm splashes on their tongues was so arousing that it only extended their orgasms.

They collapsed after swallowing every last drop, and then turning around to kiss hungrily, their tastes blended.

The second round, only half an hour later, Harry advised, "Don't chase the orgasm. Let me pull it out of you."

 _Oh, so turnaround was fair play, huh?_

Louis guessed he was going to get his wish after all. Harry was now at the controls, and Louis' wish to be dominated had been granted sooner than he had imagined. Louis knew what Harry was talking about when he said he wanted to "pull the orgasm" from him. Harry had loved to do this when they'd been together for those several early years. Louis was not allowed to tense up, strain, or "chase" it, as Harry called it. It was a totally different feeling, giving yourself totally up to the other. Just feeling, just enjoying. Something that couldn't be described, but it was spectacular when it happened, as the climax could not be rivaled. It could only be achieved by slow, torturous methods. The thing that Harry was the very best at. Orgasm was approached over and over again, and delayed until it couldn't possibly be put off any longer.

And so Harry delivered the same excruciating build-up to Louis as Louis had done to him. But hey, it was only fair. He had Louis moaning, begging, before he finally allowed him release. At one point, Louis, unraveled by now, rebelled quite vehemently.

"I fuckin' swear Styles, I'm about to detonate all by meself, ya little shit!"

"Wrong, _you're_ the little shit," Harry smirked.

Harry nevertheless made sure his Boo Bear had an unforgettable orgasm. When the moment finally came, Harry sucked Louis hard, taking him down his throat with no inhibitions, massaging his entire length with his mouth and throat. He was so damn good at it. And yes, he _pulled_ the orgasm right out of the passionate lad that just happened to be his sunshine.

Louis cried from the intensity of it all. He never imagined he'd love anyone as much as he loved Harry. They'd both risked so much for this love.

Afterwards, they were worn to the bone, and they cuddled, sleeping soundly, and dreaming of the tremendous high they'd gotten from singing together again. _Really_ together, and not just pretending to be happy on the stage. And the best part—celebrating at home afterward.

Something told Harry to open his eyes. He was being watched.

Shit. It was too early.

It was morning, he realized when he sensed the light behind his eyelids, and as he labored to wrench his eyes open, there was Louis, lurking in the doorway in his red fuzzy slippers, an eerie element clinging to him. Calm, composed, yet dynamic. At first glance, Harry yanked the covers over his head.

 _He knew that look._

"Don't attack me," he whined, his voice muffled by the blankets.

"Attack you? What gives you that idea?" asked Louis, the evil look on his face advertising his cocky state of mind.

"You're dodgy and sneaky, with questionable motives."

Louis had to laugh at Harry's reply.

"Okay, so maybe I'm all of those, but . . . trust, Harry. Trust."

"Go get a squirt gun and find Liam—work off that excess energy, then come back," advised Harry.

"Oh, I reckon you worked me energy off right well last night, Curly."

Harry blushed, even though he was hidden under the covers. He couldn't help it—it just happened with or without his consent.

"And did you hear what I said?" demanded Louis. "Trust."

Harry slowly lowered the covers, peering out at Louis with just his eyes. "Yeah," he said, remembering similar incidents from the past. That certain tone told Harry Louis was serious, and not in attack mode.

 _Trust. Harry had plenty of that, except when Louis was overly playful._

Louis approached, then threatened to tickle Harry. Testing him, that's what he was doing. Always pushing, taking it to the next step.

Harry retreated under the covers once again, until Louis said, "Trust, Styles," reminding him that he had no intention of doing anything to distress Harry. Harry uncovered his head and chest, demonstrating his trust, eyes wide and questioning.

Louis laid down next to Harry and placed his hand on Harry's naked side, near his ribs. Harry tensed. That was his most ticklish spot.

"Trust," murmured Louis again, and Harry relaxed completely. If they didn't have trust, they had nothing. They snuggled, Louis running his palms over Harry's body from time to time to test Harry again, but Harry remained chilled out. This was unambiguously what Louis had been aiming for.

"By the way, Simon's on the phone," Louis said casually. Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Why didn't ya tell me, man?"

"I reckoned he could wait," Louis said arrogantly, acting as if Simon were the last item on his to-do list.

"Where's your phone?" Harry looked around in confusion, not having heard Louis' ringtone. He knew it would have awakened him.

"In the living room," Louis jerked his thumb in the general direction. "I left it out there last night so it wouldn't disturb us," there was that close-to-evil look again.

 _So the evil look had to do with Simon._

"You mean, you've already answered it, and he's waitin' on you now?" asked Harry.

Louis nodded and walked in deliberate, measured steps out of the room, bouncing a little, showing off for Harry, clearly taking his sweet time, and returning just as lazily with the phone in his hand.

"Okay, I'm here," said Louis at the phone, his voice a monotone.

"Do you _really_ have to be quite so _obvious_?" Simon's voice blared. It seemed to bounce off the walls, making Harry's slight hangover headache pound.

Harry's cheeks immediately colored again.

"About what?" asked Louis, lounging on the bed, crossing his ankles, playing dumb, and loving it.

"Never mind," Simon's voice was decidedly irritable. Louis waited, wondering what Simon would have to say about last night's concert.

Simon attempted to wait Louis out. Wrong choice. He should have known Louis would wait all day before he'd speak first.

Finally, Simon relented and said, "It just may work."

"Oh, what?" Louis continued to pretend to be clueless and difficult as well as off-hand, forcing Simon to spell it out.

"The plan," said Simon, as if the idea had been partly his _. Of course he'd want to take credit for it. What was new?_

 _Yeah, it had been successful, and it was Simon's very nature to try to grab the glory. Anything that would make him look good,_ Louis mused.

"What plan?" _Louis was such a bitch,_ thought Harry happily. He was making Simon dig for every response.

"Damn it, Louis! What do you think? The concert! Are you going to talk about it or not?" Simon demanded.

"Actually it was _our_ idea. Mine and Harry's," Louis reminded him quietly, his voice sounding like a quietly stalking cat if a cat were to have a voice.

"Whatever, semantics," Simon waved off his comment.

" _Not_ semantics . . . the truth." Harry was fending off his laughter, his hand clasped over his mouth. Man, but Louis had some enormous balls!

Liam and Niall's heads appeared around the door frame, Niall's eyes carefully averted from Harry, who was naked in bed. They'd heard Louis' phone ring as Louis had emerged from the bathroom in his briefs, had watched him pick it up and tell Simon to hold. Then Louis had gone back to Harry's bedroom, leaving the phone on the couch. They'd heard Simon's voice on speaker, and could scarcely believe Louis would do something so outlandish. They had huddled in the corner, eyeing the phone as if it had teeth and claws.

"Whatever . . ." Simon was barely managing to rein in his temper. "The response from the audience speaks for itself."

"I told you—I think every one of us did," Louis referred to the rest of the band. "We knew it all along."

Simon hated, absolutely _detested,_ dealing with Louis and how smug he was being. The kid couldn't even be civil.

"Well, I'll let you get back to _whatever_ you were doing," said Simon sarcastically. "Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. We're headed in the right direction."

"Of course we are. We're only headed in _one_ direction," Louis couldn't resist saying it. "Thanks to Harry for naming the band, because we're living up to it. We're on the top, and we're bloody gonna stay there."

"Later," snipped Simon, and he rang off, causing all four lads to burst into laughter.

"That was awesome!" crowed Niall, slapping his knee.

"Simon's a tosser, and he can bloody well sod off!" Louis fumed.

Harry was surprised Louis hadn't used even stronger language. _At least wanker._ But then, the lad was still tired, not having gotten much sleep.

The other two fully entered the room, Niall still keeping his eyes off Harry.

"Niall," grumbled Harry. "I've got the sheet over me hips. Don't worry, you won't see anythin.'"

"But yer naked under there," whined Niall.

"You've seen me naked how many times? How is this different?" Harry wanted to know. Niall didn't know what to say. It was the _circumstances,_ not just the fact that Harry was naked. But he wasn't about to say it out loud.

Louis chuckled.

"He's thinkin' 'bout pullin' that sheet down," said Liam, watching Louis knowingly and stifling a laugh.

"No, he wouldn't be that mean," stated Harry. "He already used up his meanness this mornin' on Simon . . . I _hope."_

"Trust, Hazza, trust," Louis reminded him, and the others looked on in confusion.

"It's a thing," said Harry, as if that would explain everything.

"Anyway, we need a code word, Boo," Harry added.

"Code word?"

"Yeah, in case Simon calls."

"Like what?" Louis was bewildered.

"I don't know . . . potassium?" Harry looked so damn innocent.

" _Potassium?"_ everyone said at the same time.

"Well, it's as good as anythin', yeah?"

"No, potassium won't do," Louis looked thoughtful. "Magnesium sounds better."

Liam and Niall (and especially Niall) laughed loudly. In fact, Niall rolled on the bed, clutching his stomach because what else could possibly be so funny?

Harry grabbed at the sheet, Niall's body having slowly but surely slid it down Harry's body when he rolled. Another two inches and . . .

"Niall! You're gonna expose Harry!" Louis admonished. That stopped Niall in his tracks, and he sat up dutifully, eyeing Harry sideways as Harry jerked the sheet back just in the nick of time.

"Wait . .. I don't understand why you even _need_ a code word," reasoned Liam. "I mean, the phone displays who is callin.'" Made perfect sense, but Louis shrugged.

"Don't argue with Harry. If he wants a code word, he'll damn well get one."

Liam and Niall shared a look that clearly said, _Louis has it_ _ **bad.**_

"Let's sleep a little longer. We were up really late," Louis suggested. Harry's answer was to pull him under the sheet into a secure hug. Liam and Niall quickly exited.

Hours later, Liam knocked on the door.

"Don't you guys ever get enough?" he asked.

"Never enough!" cried a bitchy Louis, who had been sleeping blissfully. "Never enough!" He picked up a shoe from beside the bed and flung it at the door. Niall could be heard laughing without control in the background. That laugh was so contagious that Louis giggled, just because he couldn't stop himself.

"Whaaat?" said Harry, just waking up and trying to clear the fog from his mind.

"I don't know why they're up so early the morning after a concert, but they think we're makin' love again," explained Louis.

Louis ringtone was heard again, this time from somewhere near the foot on the bed.

"Shit! I forgot to put the fuckin' thing back in the livin' room," said Louis. Harry smiled. Now Louis was acting more like himself, dirty mouth and all.

Harry found the phone under a fold in the blanket, peered at the screen, looked at Louis with a long-suffering expression and said, "Magnesium."


	22. Chapter 22

"Tomlinson here," Louis grumbled into the phone.

"I forgot to mention something earlier," Simon's stated without preamble, as if he'd never ceased talking the first time he'd called. "Obviously, you guys have the concert coming up on Saturday at the Rose Bowl. How about you and Harry 'come out' then?" Simon's voice was somewhat subdued, but still held an edge, a menace that was hesitant, yet lingering.

Louis was annoyed.

 _Of course they wanted to come out._

Was Simon really that vacuous? Louis grabbed Harry's gaze and both saw the understanding there, the mystic interchange in their eyes that made everything clear. Louis didn't have to say a word, and neither did Harry.

"Of course. We're ready. We want it to be as soon as possible," Louis answered Simon.

"Good. Now, the way we'll go about it . . . " Simon began.

"No," Louis interrupted him. "Harry and I will decide how we'll do it. We want it to be special, and we want to do it _our_ way."

"Well, as long as you don't undress each other onstage or something . . ."

"Simon, how goofy do you think we are? Have some faith in us for once. We'll be discerning and tasteful. We're not idiots."

Louis' distaste for Simon seemed to grow by the second. Louis wasn't a teenager any longer. He and Harry were young men. Men with some brains in their heads, even though they hadn't gone to college. Simon treated them like toddlers that had to be watched every second.

"We'll need a press release too," Simon went on. "You and Harry will have to answer some questions."

"We know what a press release is," Louis said snidely, something resembling scorn peppering his words. "And I'll have to talk to Harry about it, but I'm sure he'll agree that it won't be necessary. After the concert, our status will be crystal clear to fans, as if it isn't already," he added to rub salt into the wound.

" I'll get back to you about that after the concert," and Simon rang off, once again ending the call on his terms. Louis supposed it gave him a false sense of control.

"The Rose Bowl, Haz, capacity of over 92,000," said Louis. "And we'll be coming out there in three days." Saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and Harry was literally shaking with both nerves and excitement.

"Niall and Liam!" Harry had opened their bedroom door. "We're coming out at the Rose Bowl!" The other two lads ran toward the room, coming to an impressive sliding stop in front of the door. It reminded Louis of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

"No shit? Asked Niall.

"No shit," said Louis, now standing beside Harry, both having thrown on their boxer briefs.

"Holy smokes. You guys are all over the internet _now._ Can you imagine what it'll be like _after_ the Rose Bowl concert?" Liam looked gobsmacked. In fact, they all did.

Later, Louis and Harry took a little time to check the internet. Liam had not been exaggerating. They were trending everywhere, it seemed. Millions of Larries were on cloud nine, gloating, "We told you so!" over and over on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram. Mentions of it had been made on the telly too. Even some of the news broadcasts had picked it up. You had to hand it to the Larries—and Harry and Louis were proud of their pluck, their loyalty. They had maintained their faith that Larry was alive and well and now were proving all the antis wrong.

Fans were so emotional, so passionate. After reading several articles and a few blogs, both Harry and Louis' eyes were becoming shiny with unshed tears. Harry might have actually cried a little when he buried his face in Louis' hair. It was staggering- as if the fans could feel exactly what was in their minds and hearts.

No practicing for the next three days. They'd gotten everything right at the Staples show and Simon texted Louis saying they probably needed a few days off anyway to rehearse how they were going to break it to the world officially. Did he mean the concert, or was Simon still hoping for a press release? Actually expecting them to agree to it?

Die-hard Directioners already had all the evidence they needed. The Rose Bowl concert would only finalize it. That was the point—everyone who cared about 1D and Harry and Louis in particular would already know, so no need to be barraged with endless questions at a press release about their relationship, and probably some way-too-personal questions included. They simply ignored Simon's text. The man was insisting on having the last word, but Louis was putting his foot down. There would be no press release of any kind.

Little did Simon know that they didn't plan on any type of rehearsal for the Rose Bowl concert anyway. They wanted it to be as natural as the Staples show had been. It was important to them that everything be as kosher as they possible. They would clearly show their affection for each other, and then would ask for the audience's attention and silence (which wouldn't be easy with 92,000 people) and announce their love for each other. Then they would kiss. And not a two or three second one this time. More of a lover's kiss.

Louis discussed it with Harry briefly, and Harry was into it full steam ahead. They wouldn't be shy about it. Louis doubted the screaming crowd would faze them at all, considering how they were able to block the rest of the world out with their passion for each other. There was no further consultation. They'd happily ad-lib it.

Louis celebrated by doing a "love wiggle" as Harry called it, with his butt before running to his phone to order pizza for everyone. Harry had to bite the bullet to keep from pouncing on him for the tease.

Oh, and while he was at it, Louis also ordered some bananas for Harry. One of the body guards could cover that. Beer and bananas. Something chocolate for the rest of them, and, hell with it, Nandos also. The poor guy would be running all over town. Even though it was only pizza, beer, bananas and Nandos, Louis spoke into the phone with precise, confident instructions, and he looked dangerously roguish to Harry, and that turned Harry on. That in-charge attitude never failed to excite Harry. Raw, unflawed power is what it was.

Sometimes he was afraid Louis would float away from him like a dream you can't hold onto, that this moment that he fancied so much would dissipate, and they'd be back where they'd started, unhappy and brokenhearted.

Niall was laughing again. God knew what about, but Niall was good at bringing a pensive person back to reality. Harry supposed it had been Louis' love wiggle. Liam reported that news of last night's concert had crashed Twitter—it was burning worldwide like wildfire. Harry and Louis' cell phones began to ring. And ring and ring. Lord knew how reporters and journalists had gotten their numbers, but they always seemed to manage it when any interesting gossip was going around. And this was big news—enough for the phones to ring every thirty seconds. They were finally forced to turn them off.

They'd talked to their mums, letting them know what to expect at the next concert, and to reassure them that everything was under control, and that Simon was giving them no grief about coming out. No more detail than that was needed. Stan got a call as well as siblings and other close friends, Ed Sheeran included. No one who was important to them was denied a personal call.

Harry and Louis had no idea what they would wear to the Rose Bowl except the fact that Harry would be wearing his gold boots. _That_ was an essential. Louis swore those boots would be the death of him. Louis was going to search for some rainbow trainers. Little did they both know that in just a couple of months in Buffalo New York, in September, Harry would be running all over the stage with a rainbow flag.

The next three days were little more than a blur. Louis finally found rainbow trainers, but he wished he'd thought of it sooner, because he might have had a much easier time finding them online. By the time they would be shipped and delivered though, it would be too late for the concert. So he had dawned a baseball cap and fake mustache, and without Harry, he had been successful in getting in and out of stores without being recognized. He hit no less than a dozen stores and malls before he finally found shoes very close to what he wanted. He took a body guard with him, and they looked like two ordinary guys out shoe shopping. He was careful not to talk too loudly to his bodyguard or the cashier because his voice was so distinctive. Back home with a self-satisfied smirk, he presented Harry with the trainers.

"You actually found some! C'mere, sweet creature," Harry was so tickled that he lifted Louis right up off the ground and spun him around, Louis trying to look indifferent, but not fooling Niall and Liam, who looked on quietly, until Niall said, "Awwwwwww . . . "

Harry put Louis down then, as he knew Louis would suddenly become painfully shy, even in front of his best friends. Louis was funny like that. So bold, yet, with certain things, almost bashful. Harry thought about them kissing in front of 92,000 people, and he chuckled quietly. Louis was an enigma. It was one of the many things he loved about him.

The day of the concert finally dawned, and Harry and Louis lingered in bed as long as they dared, drinking each other in, caressing, holding each other. 

In the blinking of an eye, it was now a couple of hours before the concert, and Louis allowed his eyes to roam over Harry. The Cheshire lad had picked out a white silk shirt, leaving half of the buttons rakishly undone. How did Harry pull it off?

With class, that's how.

The man drove Louis insane with desire. He wanted to rip that shirt, the skinny jeans and boots off Harry and pleasure him to the hilt.

Louis had picked out a blue t-shirt that was sprinkled with white speckles. It was form fitting, and really did the muscles in his biceps justice, his narrow waist contrasting beautifully, not to mention how delicious his butt and muscled thighs looked to Harry in his tight black skinny jeans. And, of course, the rainbow trainers.

"Wear them with pride, Hedgehog," Harry murmured the double meaning into Louis' ear. "Can't wait until after the concert." Louis picked up the meaning behind that comment, and he felt the flame start to roar in his groin. They really should have found some release together that morning, but memories of concerts years ago had caused them to abstain. The overpowering lust, the anticipation was an incredible high for them. Denying themselves until afterward . . . knowing what would happen when the show was over was made even sweeter when they didn't indulge beforehand. In other words, they liked to torment themselves a little bit. Or maybe, a _lot._

And it would be easier now that they could be more affectionate. In the early years, they could only do so much before it was too much. But now . . . really, all restrictions had been lifted. Now that everyone knew, fans would be actually _expecting_ lots of closeness, and Louis and Harry were looking forward to that so very eagerly, also knowing the fire would soon consume them until they could hardly get off the stage fast enough. But until then, they could tease and flirt to their hearts' desire. 

You could feel it in the air at the Rose Bowl—the electricity. Crackling, sizzling and popping. As if it were a live thing. They'd played to crowds this big, and even bigger, before, but tonight was special and the fans were putting out a special kind of energy. A barely leashed anticipation was smoldering. The screaming reached an all-time high because the fans now knew there was no doubt something was going on between Harry and Louis, once again, after a very, very long wait. A wait that some had feared would never come to an end.

 _Shit,_ thought Louis. _Wait until they hear us announce it officially!_

"We're actually gonna do this, Harold! I'm buzzin'!" Louis said right before show time. Harry wanted to crush the older lad to his chest, but they'd run completely out of time.

 _It was show time!_

They walked quickly onto the stage at not quite a run, Harry and Louis leading.

 _The roar. Oh, the roar!_

If they'd thought the Staples concert fans had been loud, it had been a mere whisper compared to this. This crowd was literally on the edges of their seats, straining at the bit, jumping to their feet when they saw the band members, cheering Harry and Louis on, giving them nothing but a feeling of euphoria that so many thousands seemed to be overjoyed to support them.

It seemed that this should have been a process, a gradual coming out. In theory anyway. But now there was no doubt left whatsoever that it wasn't necessary. This had been simmering under the surface for the Larries for years. No point in making them wait any longer.

Harry and Louis had already known how their relationship would be received, but evidently Simon hadn't. In his front row seat, Louis noticed how he craned his neck, gawking at the fans, shock and astonishment written all over his face, and practically cringing at all the shrill, non-stop screams and shrieks. Pleased with the reception, yet a little bit terrified of the intensity.

They had fun during that concert, massive amounts of it, and there were also reflective moments and an atmosphere of hope that the audience seemed to cling to. They felt a bond with the fans that eclipsed anything they'd ever felt before. They could feel the true acceptance. It was freeing.

The sequence of songs was perfect for the situation. Everything came together naturally, and it could not have gone more smoothly.

"C'mon, C'mon" brought about some flirting and big smiles. So did "Rock Me," where Louis' hip thrusts were well received to say the least. Harry thought he might faint from the crushing desire. Niall threw in one of his high jumps, and Liam spun around to the music. "Where Do Broken Hearts Go" had Louis and Harry actually dancing together for a few seconds, which caused another bout of keening from the audience, although the enchantment from the fans never really seemed to diminish; the squeals only slightly lessening in volume periodically.

Harry whispered into Louis' ear several times, and every time the crowd went wild. Louis was praying Harry wouldn't say anything explicit, seeing as how he was already doing his damndest to ward off an erection. Harry showed some mercy and just called him pet names and baby talked him a bit.

Harry broke free once, skipping with his long rich brown curls floating out behind him, and Louis thought it must be his unbridled joy that he could no longer contain. He looked so fucking hot. Louis could hardly keep his eyes off of him. He was so enthralled that he almost forgot some of the lyrics to a song or two.

Unknown to Louis, Harry was having problems of a similar nature of his own. Louis' confident swagger, his knowing, promising glances made a warmth swirl around in Harry's belly and groin. Those brilliant blue eyes that captured his when there was any distance between them, the playful smirk.

 _These damn tight pants . ._ .

When they sang, "They Don't Know About Us" the audience silently protested, somehow sensing they were going to know a lot more before the night was over, and they were restless about it. Anxious. It was all a giant tease, for both the audience and the couple on the stage.

"18" was next, causing the audience to approach hysteria. It was a tribute to their younger days, when their love story had begun.

"You and I" inspired Harry to serenade Louis shamelessly, and the magic only escalated from there on out.

"Strong" was the embellishment, the garnish, and perfect for the upcoming announcement. As the last "you make me strong," faded from Harry's lips, Louis sidled up closer to Harry than he already was, which wasn't a stretch. They'd been close throughout. They'd been following each other in turns during the song, not covering the entire stage as they'd done in the past with this song. They both knew what was coming up, and they made very frequent eye contact, the crowd really getting into it, the anticipation building steadily.

Silence filled the Rose Bowl, something you rarely heard. Not complete silence—that wasn't possible with that many people, but it was as close as they were going to get.

Hearts racing, Harry and Louis reached for each other's hands—the ones not holding the microphones. All eyes being on them, wide and expectant, some of the girls with their hands on their hearts, their chests heaving, waiting for one of them to speak, the audience looked as if they would all collapse if someone didn't speak soon.

Harry looked at Louis with major fond, the crowd started squealing, and then Louis held up a hand. The fans didn't quiet down much.

"I have somethin' to say," Louis announced. That caught everyone's attention, and it went to near silence again. Louis grabbed the opportunity.

"As most of you probably already know, Harry and I took some time away in Sweden . . . to be alone." Cheers came up from the audience, and Louis had to stop talking for a few seconds. As soon as he saw an opening, he began again.

"You see, we have been in love for years, and we're finally ready to come out to the world tonight," he barely got the words past his lips, and the audience's roar was once again deafening. It was at least two minutes before he could continue. He held his hand up again, and gradually the noise died enough to get in a few more words before the next onslaught.

"And we're not just comin' out as gay. We're together . . . in a relationship," he said quickly, so that everyone could hear his words before the noise level topped out again. "I love Harry Styles."

Louis turned to Harry, smiling and nodding, indicating he was finished and Harry could speak if he wanted to. Minutes passed before Harry could speak because of the noise.

"I've never been happier in me life, and I quite like it," drawled Harry in his signature slow manner.

More noise, more waiting.

"And I want to proclaim me love for Louis to the world. We're a thing."

"Me Boo Bear," said Harry quietly, turning to Louis, although most of the audience heard it through the microphone.

Then, as if they'd rehearsed it a thousand times (it was that perfect) Louis and Harry embraced, tilting their heads, and their lips meeting in a prolonged, sensual kiss that left them both breathless. It took the audience's breath away too. Nary a whisper could be heard, but there were lots of gasps and short, shocked screams.

They left the tongues out, as that would have been a little too extreme, but just the same, the kiss was as every bit as sincere as they wanted it to be. They clung to each other even afterward.

When they finally broke the embrace, they looked down at a sea of smiling faces, smiles that liberated them.

"Okay now, let's not get sickening," Liam said on his microphone, lightening up the tension, and coming at just the right time. There were a few laughs from the audience. Everyone's faces looked lit up, and it was as if the entire audience was on an incredible high. It was surreal, and everything seemed a little fuzzy to the lovers on the stage.

Then, at Liam's direction, the band began playing "One Thing," then, as a finale, "History." On that note, the concert ended. Perfect.

They came in for a group hug at the conclusion of the song, then the four of them lined up and bowed. As they exited the stage, Louis and Harry held hands, as they would do for every concert in the future.

The after party was pandemonium. But Harry and Louis hardly even noticed. Harry kept skimming his hands over Louis' sides, slyly working his fingers under the hem of Louis' t-shirt. Only just barely. Just enough to be able to feel Louis' bare skin. Harry had a raging erection from just this contact. It had a domino effect, and Louis responded with a soft moan.

Louis and Harry began lusting over each other, kissing and hugging each other constantly. No one had the nerve to interrupt them with questions. They didn't stay long, but then, no one expected them to.

On the way home, Louis' phone buzzed with an incoming call. They both glanced at the screen, Harry bursting into laughter when he saw "Magnesium" on the lit display screen. Louis, looking sassy as ever, carelessly turned his phone off, jamming it firmly back into his pocket and out of sight. "He can bloody well wait until tomorrow," he snarled, then turned back to continue kissing Harry.


	23. Chapter 23

They thought they'd never get home. All they wanted was to be alone to savor the night's success. The driver must have been thoroughly disgusted by the time he dropped them off. They were all over each other, panting like thirsty wolves in the night.

"We're a thing," Harry reminded Louis as they entered the house.

"Oh God Haz, I love you," Louis laughed. "And yes, we're a thing. We had a proper comin' out tonight!"

It was still surreal, and probably would be for a while to come. It had been so long awaited, a distant dream that had finally come to the forefront. Louis had almost given up hope of Harry ever being truly his, let alone standing up to Simon with him, coming out to the world with him.

"Me Superman," Harry mumbled, his face buried in Louis' neck as Louis slammed the door to the house shut and locked it.

Their lovemaking was to be very special. Sweet, loving, affectionate, hungry and greedy all in one very- looked- forward- to session. Carefully paced in the beginning, but reaching a fever pitch after some very gratifying foreplay.

"Me hand almost grazed your butt onstage," Harry admitted after some long, slow kissing. Louis' eyes met Harry's. "I didn't feel it," Louis said, puzzled.

"I said _almost._ I stopped meself in time," Harry looked bashful, bless his heart.

"Well, we used to slap each other's butts onstage all the time in the old days. We can start doing that again," Louis offered.

"That's right! We can!"

"Happy times!" Louis chortled.

"We're not just home right now, we're _**home**_ **,"** emphasized Harry, his eyes connecting with Louis.'

"We've always been home to each other. We just evaded it for a while because we had to. Hey, when are we gonna start lookin' for a house?"

Harry's grin deepened, dimples putting on a glorious display.

"Bloody brilliant! You didn't forget about it! I'm chuffed about it, and the sooner the better!" was Harry's jubilant response.

"Of course I didn't forget, Haz. I was full on serious. The tour will be over soon, then we can get a realtor to help us find somethin' that'll be perfect—somethin' we'll both agree is _us,_ you and I."

This earned a big smile, and Harry's hand cupped Louis' cheek.

"You know I want that more than anything, Lou Boo."

Ardent kissing followed. The buildup was just as sweet as it always was, and Louis felt himself leaking pre-come.

They went to Harry's room, as was the routine these days, and undressed. They didn't darken the room completely like last time because they both wanted to see each other's eyes. The night of their coming out was something to honor and memorialize.

Being June, it was warm, so Louis turned the central air on and shut the window. After all, he didn't want all the neighbors hearing them. When he returned to bed, Harry grabbed him. Louis liked that—when Harry got aggressive it meant he was having trouble holding back. And that made Lou feel like a king, or at least the most desirable lad around.

More pre-come slipped out, and Harry felt it against his bare legs.

"You're as aroused as I am," Harry commented, his eyes heavy lidded.

Louis raised his eyebrows in a challenge. "I bet I'm more turned on than you," he teased.

"Doubt it. Feel." Harry guided Louis' hand to his cock, and by God, it was as covered in pre-come as Louis' own. Open, sucking mouths ate at each other's lips and tongues. Gentle at first, and then even Harry, the master of slow burn seducers, got carried away in the midst of the lust. He moaned. He squirmed. He sent serious, questing looks at Louis.

Yeah, the concert and the making out on the drive home had been just about all the foreplay that was needed. Louis sensed Harry's readiness, his neediness.

Louis laid on top of Harry, giving him wet kisses over his lips, neck and collarbone, making Harry writhe.

Louis was feasting on Harry's cock before even five more minutes had passed. Feasting, literally feasting. There was no other word for it.

Harry, with his head rolled back looked like some exotic model, his full pink lips open, his eyes closed, his hair carelessly falling over his forehead, the rest of the long curly strands tossed across the pillowcase. Memories of the concert and their pent up desires catapulted their libidos to even greater heights. They'd been so young before . . . Starting the romance all over with their new maturity was like seeing something for the first time that leaves you breathless.

Louis' tongue was zipping up and down Harry's cock as his mouth enclosed him in wet warmth. Slow, rhythmic sucking caused Harry's limbs to tingle. The pull—it drugged him. He felt it everywhere, even in the soles of his feet. Louis' tongue dragged in slow circles around the head of Harry's enormous cock that was enlarged even more than usual, an amazing sight for Louis' concert weary eyes.

He was careful not to bring Harry off too quickly. He dropped to his balls, and took them into his mouth, licking and rolling them, pulling the skin with his lips, Harry's gasps cutting the air.

Louis' face nudged under Harry's balls, and Harry just naturally spread his legs. Louis pushed his legs up and out, licking lower and lower, Harry's breath seizing until Louis' tongue teased him in that special place and that special way that they both loved.

At first, Harry was a little tight and tense, but Louis' tongue cured that with repeated, gentle ministrations until Harry relaxed, loosened, and Louis' tongue entered. They'd played and experimented with this kind of thing back when they had not had much maturity, but now that they were older, it was becoming deeper, even more meaningful, with a more sensual quality to it. Now there was even more love attached to it. Since getting back together, they were learning to master a more mature, flowing expression of their love and pleasure.

Harry's breaths were quicker, his moans were less inhibited than they'd ever been in Louis' memory, in a way that couldn't be described, but just listening to it aroused Louis almost to the limit of his tolerance.

He pulled Harry's cheeks apart, sucking, and then tongue fucking Harry with a zeal he hadn't known he had in him. He got sloppy, drooly and totally caught up in it. Harry felt Louis' excitement, and coupled with the sensations, he climbed the peak very quickly. Barely a couple of minutes later, Harry's sphincter muscles fluttered around his lover's tongue in a sequence of squeezes, while he moaned even more loudly.

Louis was amazed. Harry did that when he was about to come. Louis knew this from past experiences when he'd had a finger or two inside Harry as he had gone down on him, or when he'd been inside him. There was no mistaking it. He looked up to see come spurting all over Harry's stomach and chest, Harry still in the throes of his climax. He hadn't even touched Harry's cock while rimming him. Such pride washed over Louis that he had been able to bring Harry off this way. With only his tongue. He continued until Harry took a deep breath and relaxed completely.

Climbing back up Harry's body, Louis was in awe. Harry put his arms around Louis and held him tight.

"Harry, you came . . . you came just from . . . that."

"I know. Your tongue has magic qualities. Want to know a secret?" asked Harry.

Louis nodded.

"I also came once when I was rimming you. I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed. I covered me dick with me hand to hide it."

Louis was really gobsmacked now. "Whyever didn't you tell me, baby?" he wanted to know. "That's so fuckin' hot!"

"I thought it might be, like, weird or somethin,' man. Now that we're older, I know it just shows how great our sex is—how compatible we are—our chemistry."

Louis basked in this information. So Harry had come just from rimming him before!

"And now," Harry continued. "I'm gonna go clean up in the loo, and when I come out, I want you sitting on me chest. I want you to feed yourself to me."

Harry didn't have to repeat himself. Louis waited with all the patience he could muster, which wasn't much, and when Harry returned, Louis mounted him like he was a wild pony, quickly so he wouldn't get bucked off in the process, his dick standing straight up, pointing at the ceiling. He also noted Harry's erection had not diminished.

Harry smiled at Louis' own hard-on. Louis didn't know how much his hard-ons sent Harry's desire through the ceiling.

"Fuck me mouth," Harry instructed, noting how Louis' eyes shone like they always did when Harry talked dirty to him. The fact that it was a secret between the two of them was just as exciting as what they were doing.

Harry's tongue snaked out and he flicked it against the underside of Louis' cock. The pulse that ran through Louis was almost unbearable. Teasing licks followed, Louis' back arching, silently pleading with Harry to do what he was so damn good at.

Harry at last sucked the head voraciously, his hands holding onto Louis' butt, urging him to probe deeper. There wasn't a damn thing Louis could do about it—no way to get away. He wouldn't have even tried to escape anyway, but the thought that Harry was holding him so tightly against his mouth was oddly exhilarating, knowing Harry had him just where he wanted him, being so firm and steady about it, and Louis was so turned on he could barely keep from collapsing.

Louis watched as his entire dick disappeared into Harry's mouth, and then, throat. Harry adjusted, gagging a little at first until he had Louis firmly wedged, moaning and causing vibrations to reverberate through Louis' cock.

Louis felt so deliciously wanton, so lusty, allowing Harry free rein to do as he pleased. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't let Harry do. It was over quickly, because Louis had gotten so excited with their earlier activities. Just before he came, however, Harry demanded something of him.

"Look into me eyes when you come, Lou. I want to see it," Harry said, briefly freeing his mouth.

Louis' breaths quickened, and his vision clouded; he could hardly focus on Harry's eyes. But he did see the clear, bright green of them as Harry massaged him with throat, lips, tongue and mouth.

He was coming . . . Louis was positively panting now, and he was _fucking Harry's mouth._ His hips bucked forward, and he slumped forward so that now he was more on his hands and knees than sitting atop Harry's chest.

He felt the expulsion of his orgasm, felt Harry busily swallowing, both of them abandoning themselves to the point of moaning and letting loose with a stream of loving words, along with titillating expletives mixed in.

Smack dab in the middle of Louis' climax, they heard the front door open, and Niall and Liam's voices, which immediately ceased when they heard Harry and Louis. Harry and Louis paid it no mind. They could care less. Louis was milking all he could out of his orgasm, and Harry was milking _him._

A few more hearty grunts, and Louis collapsed on top of Harry.

"Never enough, huh?" they heard Liam mutter as he and Niall passed Harry's bedroom door on the way to their own rooms.

"Smart asses," mumbled Louis under his breath. "We'll hear about it in the mornin.' Be right back," said Louis, disappearing into the bathroom, but not before he darkened the room completely as he had done that other night when they'd had that equally wonderful night of sex.

Harry was flummoxed. "Why?" he asked.

"I just want a nice, dark room with you tonight," Louis answered evasively. Harry lay in the pitch dark waiting for Louis to come out of the loo.

When Louis came back into the room, Harry could see nothing, and waited for Louis' weight to hit the bed. But a flash of red caught his eye. Must have been his imagination. But wait . . . there it was again.

 _Something red was moving around in the room, suspended in space._

Harry's heart rate picked up its pace. What the devil was that? He strained to see, and then he saw that the red hue was formed into a bright red pair of lips, moving through the room, and now toward him.

"What the hell?" Harry cried.

Louis burst into laughter, but the lips continued to approach. "How are ya doin' that?" Harry demanded.

Louis didn't answer, and the lips were suddenly hovering right over Harry's face, Louis' hands searching Harry's own lips out. His hands held his head in the right position as Louis kissed him thoroughly. As soon as the kiss ended, Harry lost it completely. He laughed so hard that he did that "bark" he sometimes did. That sharp, staccato laugh that he didn't seem to have much control over. He slammed his palm over his mouth, knowing Liam and Niall were probably trying to get some sleep.

"What is it, baby?" Harry asked when he got his breath back.

"Glow in the dark body paint. It washes right off. You know, I coulda put it on me dick too," Louis informed him, dissolving into giggles.

"Ha! A dick floating around the room!" Harry liked that one. "We oughta do that to Liam and Niall. They'll flip out!" A fresh round of laughter ensued.

"Damn loud people. Either fuckin' or laughin' and keepin' the rest of the household awake," grumbled Liam as he passed the door again, only to return a minute later, a slight, crisp crackling sound accompanying him. It was a bag of chips, Harry and Louis surmised.

"What's that I hear?" Niall's voice could be heard only a second later. It was uncanny how Niall could track down a source of food, no matter how quiet a person tried to be about it. "Chips? Cookies? Whatcha got, Li?" Liam didn't answer. He'd learned not to offer information, or it would be very plausible Niall would end up with most of it.

"Oh God. Niall heard food, and now he'll have to go to the kitchen himself," complained Louis. And a moment later, Niall was on his own way to find goodies to eat in bed. Amazing how well the boys knew each other and their habits.

"Me butt's still wet from your mouth," said Harry coyly, only a voice in the dark.

"Good. I got hard again kissin' you," explained Louis. "Now I'll fuck you—put that moisture to some good use."

"What? Already?"

"Already. C'mere, Styles. Tomlinson will ensure you have good dreams." 

The next morning, Harry woke up to a lightly and pleasantly snoring Louis, curled up by his side. Louis stayed as close to him as he possibly could all night now that they were back together. Harry woke up sometimes with no covers (because they were securely wrapped around Louis) and only a few inches of mattress space for himself. And despite being bundled so tightly in the blankets, Louis' arms were still always wrapped around Harry. Harry wondered how he managed to do it.

But when you were Louis Tomlinson, getting away with things was just a fact of life. Despite that, it still didn't always come easy, and he often had to fight hard for things, but Louis usually came out the winner in the end. The way he breezed through things (like confronting Simon) made it look so easy, but Harry knew it took a lot out of Tommo. So technically, Louis didn't actually get away with things—he put the sweat into it to make it happen. The one exception was Harry. Harry forgave him just about anything, and frankly, he spoiled him.

So Harry let him sleep, getting up cautiously so as not to wake him. Brushing his hair and teeth, and putting on some boxer briefs, he went out to the living room. Liam and Niall were still asleep. The last time after a concert, the other two had been up unusually early, and Harry had wondered why. But now it seemed he'd figured it out. They'd been curious about Harry and Louis, even though Niall had done a splendid acting job, behaving as if he were extra prudent about being exposed to such debauchery. But he'd given himself away by hanging by so closely, sneaking glances at the bed, apparently fascinated that Harry had been naked in bed with Louis.

Harry's phone was on the couch, nestled beside Louis' phone. Harry smiled, then realized how dumb that actually was. He was glad no one had seen him smiling at their phones at if they were lovers. Louis kind of made him lose his mind.

There were quite a few messages and texts. A text from his mother, one from Lottie, a few friends, all congratulating him on their coming out. Word had gotten around, because not all of them had been at the concert. Harry could imagine how many excited phone calls had been made.

And then there was a voice mail from Taylor Swift. _Fucking wonderful._ Just what he needed to see first thing in the morning after a concert and late night.

He squirmed and wanted to recoil, but pushed play anyway.

"Hi Harry," her sultry voice was smooth as silk. "Um, I heard about what happened at the concert last night. I, um . . . want to congratulate you." Hesitation, then, "If you . . . um, ever need to talk about anything . . . _anything_ at all, I'm always here. If this is a . . . publicity stunt or something . . . you know you can tell me, and I won't tell a soul. In any case . . . call me anytime. I miss you . . . "

Harry deleted the message, making a sour face of disgust. He felt a little sorry for her, but did she really have to hint that his relationship with Louis wasn't real? Was that dig really necessary? It occurred to him that he should have let Louis read the message, but it would only upset the lad—he knew that with unwavering certainty. He would not return her call, nor would he ever be calling her again. Just like the song she'd written had so plainly announced that "they were never getting back together again." He'd hold her to it. He wanted no one other than Louis Tomlinson.

Harry sat down at the table, after having made eggs on toast for himself and Louis. Louis' entrance couldn't have been more timely. Harry looked up, smiling, and Louis bent down to kiss his lips lingeringly, Harry noticing the taste of their shared spearmint toothpaste. Louis' hair was also combed, and was also in his briefs, just like Harry.

"Your eggs on toast are in the microwave. I knew you'd be getting' up soon."

"How'd you know?" Louis was curious.

"I knew you'd miss me body heat, even though you hogged all of the covers _and_ about crowded me over the side of the bed and onto the floor. I would've been right cold if you hadn't been wrapped 'round me."

"Sorry, Haz. I guess it's subconscious. Not lettin' you get away again," Louis smiled.

"Not gonna happen, baby. By the way, got a voice mail from TS this morning . . . or, whenever she called. I didn't even check the time."

Louis mocked pouted as he carried his breakfast with him to the table. "She's competition!" he groused. He said it mostly in jest, but he was just the tiniest, teeniest bit jealous.

Harry smirked, loving Louis' possessiveness. "You know she's not, Luigi. I deleted it as soon as I saw it."

"What'd it say?"

"Just that she was congratulating us, and that if I ever needed to talk to her about anything, I could call her anytime." He left out the part about her insinuating that he and Louis' announcement had been a publicity stunt. Louis definitely didn't need to hear that.

"But you guys broke up a long time ago. Why does she keep trying?" Louis sounded like a sulking kid. Harry felt like grabbing him and squeezing him tight, despite the fact that he was eating and sipping the hot tea Harry had also put on the table for him.

"God only knows. And you know we didn't break up, because there was never a relationship to start with. Just . . . well—" Harry didn't finish his sentence.

"She was just a beard, yeah?" Louis finished it for him. Harry hadn't wanted to say the word. He'd felt very guilty about Taylor, even though she'd been downright nasty to him after it was all over. He guessed he was just hard wired for guilt.

"Yeah, that."

"Did you ever kiss her?" Louis asked.

"Only for the benefit of the cameras, and only because I was instructed to. And no, we never had . . . intimacy."

"Sex," corrected Louis, enchanted with what a gentleman Harry was, even now, after all the bitterness that had surrounded the entire event.

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Can't say I blame her for fallin' for ya. It's not hard to do. In fact, it's hard _not_ to do."

"What about you and Eleanor? Ever kissed her off camera?" Harry wanted to know.

"No, you and I were together for some of that time. Way before her, even. You know that Harry. And no, never once. Like you, I did only what I had to do."

"How'd we get on this depressing subject anyway?"

"Don't know, but it's rubbish. Let's look at houses today!" Louis' eyes shimmered. "Let me check me phone first."

A moment later. "Oh bullocks to this! There's a text from Magnesium."

Harry had to laugh. Simon would now forever be referred to as Magnesium by the two of them.

"He says he wants to lay down some guidelines now that we've come out. No fuckin' way!" Louis was trying desperately to tamp down his temper as he got the distasteful task out of the way.

Simon answered almost immediately.

"No guidelines," Louis imitated Simon's way of answering the phone, sparing any unnecessary banter.

Simon must not have been able to find his voice at first. He absolutely _hated_ to be dismissed as if he was not the big gun he was. He was not to be trifled with, damn it! Without some degree of control, he was inferior in his own eyes, only half a man.

He needed to give directions, have people heed them and jump when he said jump. This Doncaster lad was a jackass, wanting to wear the trousers, and Simon's patience was running mighty thin. The lads had done a brilliant job of coming out at the show, but Simon wasn't about to praise them. First he wanted subordination, and even then he doubted he'd take his hat off to them.

They were in a deadlock, and even Louis could see that. Simon was not going to budge until the lad showed him some courtesy, at the least.

"What guidelines were on your mind?" asked Louis as sarcastically as he could manage.

"I was thinking last night, and I think it might make quite an impression if you and Harry still flirted with birds."

" _What?_ Why the bloody hell would we want to do that?"

"To keep the fans on their toes, thinking you two are in a relationship, but might still be available. It'll have 'em hot and massively excited. They love the idea of you two together, but when they get the idea there might be hope of you two also dating fans, I'm betting your popularity will soar even more."

So . . . Simon was evidently proud of himself for coming up with such a ludicrous idea.

"Harry and I are devoted to each other. We have no interest in that kind of thing."

"Of course you don't. But the fans won't know that." Simon always had a retort—well, most of the time, and Louis was losing his cool.

"I'm losin' me shit at your dastardly suggestion, and Harry and I will not even hint at cheatin' on each other! It would make us look like lowlifes, scoundrels."

Harry was shaking his head fiercely, indicating he was of the same mind as Louis.

"Well, there will have to be guidelines," muttered Simon, still refusing to give up the ghost. He was determined to continue his sovereignty over the lads. He would remain supreme, one way or the other.

"We'll talk later, but I'll tell you now that Harry and I won't cheapen our love. It's genuine and authentic and we won't discount it or demean it in any way. Flirtin' with anyone else is out."

Louis hung up. Once again, Harry was stunned by Louis' spirit.

"I hope he doesn't call back again today," Louis lamented, sighing heavily.

"Louis," Harry said a minute or so later, between bites. "Let's shower and then go look at houses. And leave our bloody phones here!"


	24. Chapter 24

After their shower, Louis and Harry called a trusted friend, Ed Sheeran, who knew of a realtor he'd had good experiences with, and as it turned out, the realtor was able to meet them nearby a couple of hours later. The realtor knew what kind of money Harry and Louis had, and a healthy commission sounded good to him, so he rescheduled his day so as not to miss out on this opportunity.

Climbing out of Harry's Rover to get into the realtor's car at his place of business, they both suddenly realized they hadn't discussed what either of them preferred in a house, nor even the price, although price wasn't a priority. Comfort and a feeling of _home_ was.

Quickly, Louis wrote down a few requirements of his own, and had Harry do the same.

 _Louis' list included:_

Two stories

Circular drive

Completely and securely fenced

At least a 3-car garage

Good view

Lots of windows

At least one balcony

Spa

 _Harry's list:_

Lots of yard space for barbeques and a dog

Hardwood floors

Oak cabinets

Brick fireplace

Extra large kitchen with an island

Extra large living room and bedrooms

Lots of closet space

They presented the list to the realtor. The man was aware that they could afford just about anything they wanted, leaving him in a quandary about what to show them, but when he saw the list he breathed a sigh of relief. This gave him something to go on, enabling him to greatly narrow down choices. He was surprised to hear, however, that the boys, unlike most millionaires, didn't want a huge mansion, but a somewhat modest home. Something cozy and homey, but roomy.

The first house he took them to was in Los Angeles. Both Harry and Louis rejected it because the bathrooms were too small for their taste. Both liked bathrooms they could move around in. In fact, they said, they preferred big rooms in general. The realtor then crossed out properties that had any small rooms. He would only show them properties that boasted oversized rooms— _every_ room in the house, if possible.

The second house, in Hollywood, had every feature they were looking for, but alas, the grounds were too small. It was better, claimed Harry, to have too much yard than not enough. He wanted a big dog that would be able to stretch out and run, also leaving plenty of room to put in a pool if they decided later on that they wanted one, and trees for shade. This property only had a couple of small trees. The realtor had thought the yard would be large enough, until Harry claimed he and Louis had decided on a large breed of dog, specifically a Great Dane.

The boys agreed that the third property didn't have a big enough, or cozy enough fireplace, and it wasn't made of bricks. Also the one balcony it had was quite small.

The realtor developed a gleam in his eye as he drove them to the fourth property. It had just dawned on him that the recently listed property he was headed toward boasted all the essentials the boys were looking for in a home

"I have a feeling you're going to like this one," he said slyly, not giving anything away, wanting the property to speak for itself.

The property was only a short distance from the house where they lived with Liam and Niall. It had three very large bedrooms, three full baths, huge sunken living room, dining room, den, laundry room, a balcony running the entire length of the house with sliding glass doors and a terrific view of Hollywood and also a balcony off the master bedroom suite. The bathrooms were very roomy, one having a shower that was enormous. Louis' eyes got wide when he saw it, and Harry chuckled.

They tried not to gasp out loud when they saw the massive kitchen, with an impressive, very long island, loads of counter space, all brand new appliances, tons of cupboard space, oak cabinets, a pantry, and plenty of room for Harry to cook. The floor tile was mint green with matching wall paint.

There were oak wood floors throughout the house except for the bedrooms, but Harry was quick to inject that he could live with carpet in the bedrooms.

Walk-in closets were in every bedroom, there was a fantastic, huge multi-color stacked natural stone fireplace in the living room, (even better than brick, they agreed) with an oak mantel, an enclosed large spa on the master bedroom balcony, still leaving plenty of room to spare, an acre of property completely enclosed with tall grey and white cinder block walls and a wrought iron gate, a few mature shade trees, a top of the line security system, and windows galore that made the house cheery, bright and airy. The lay-out of the house was perfect—much the way Louis had envisioned their dream dwelling. The boys were literally speechless. It was beautiful—simply beautiful.

The walls in the living and dining room were sky blue and, remembering the mint green kitchen, Harry and Louis' eyes locked. _That had to be a sign_. There were even attractive, unique stepping stones leading to the house from the front yard, something Louis had always been partial to because he'd had them at his childhood home in Doncaster.

Harry and Louis looked knowingly at each other and instantly knew this was their house. It wasn't overly huge like some stars' homes, but would give them plenty of space to have parties if they wanted to, and also plenty of room to get away from each other if they felt they needed privacy. Although, they doubted they'd want much of that. Being separated for so long made them want to be anything but apart. Still, they'd have that option at their disposal should they want to make use of it.

They knew what they wanted, and they wanted this house, so they didn't mess around. Finding another house like this one would involve a lot of time and a lot of looking. They made an offer on the spot, and the realtor said he'd get back to them with the seller's response.

"Oh my God, Harry! We didn't tell Liam and Niall we were even _lookin_ ' for a house!" Louis was horrified when it hit him, and he came crashing out his dream world with a jolt. He felt like a complete heel. Harry was driving home, and Louis' words disheartened Harry, who couldn't believe they'd overlooked something so very important. They'd all always lived together, since the X-Factor days. How could they forget about their two best friends?

Above all else, they agreed they didn't want to hurt the other's lads' feelings, but couldn't figure out a way to tell them they'd found their dream house and had already made an offer without even informing them of their intentions. It really _had_ been a spur of the moment thing, even though they'd been thinking about it for a little while. They just hadn't thought they'd find the perfect house this quickly, and certainly not after only looking at four homes.

"I can't believe we bought a house!" cried Harry, his keenness breaking through, even though, after Louis' comment, he'd tried to hold it in check. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Louis lowered his window to holler out "Oi, oi!" just for the hell of it.

Then, on a serious note, "Well, we haven't bought it _yet,_ but if the owners won't take any less than full price, would you still want it?"

Harry's eyes were dilated with excitement. "I would! Even if you didn't, I'd make up the difference!" he exclaimed.

"I feel the same. So unless someone else looks at it today and offers more than the asking price, we've got it for sure!" Louis was beside himself with joy.

As soon as they walked in, Liam started his teasing.

"I hope you two cool it sometime soon, or Niall and meself are never gonna get any sleep!" he spoke of last night, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Right, well, we'll try to tone it down a bit," Louis replied. "We need to talk to you two, if you have a few minutes, yeah?" Louis said it before he broke down and lost his courage.

Liam and Niall, curious and tentative expressions on their faces, sat in the living room, inquisitive and so innocent looking, making a fresh surge of guilt hit Louis and Harry smack in the gut. Louis got right down to business. He wasn't one to dilly dally. He knew that if he procrastinated, he'd find this task even more difficult.

"We had every intention of tellin' you, but we didn't expect to find sommat straight away," he began.

Liam and Niall sported twin looks of puzzlement.

"You see, we found a house, Harry and I." It was delivered in a fevered rush to get it out and in the open. Louis waited for the fire of accusations, but none came.

"A house? You mean, for you and Harry?" asked Liam.

Louis nodded. "It's perfect, Li. We wanted to tell you, and we were gonna, but after Simon called this mornin,' we had to get outta here for a while. That's why we left our phones," he indicated their phones, still on the couch.

"Wait, Simon called this mornin'"? asked Niall.

It was then they remembered they'd left the house before the other two had gotten up. So they had to backtrack and tell them what Simon had said.

"So we called a realtor, jus' to kinda kill time, never thinkin' we'd actually find sommat, and he showed us some houses, and this one was all we'd been dreamin' of," Harry explained. "It has every requirement each of us was lookin' for."

Niall's mouth was wide open, and Liam reached over and tipped the Irish boy's chin up, effectively closing it again.

"Jesus Christ," murmured Niall, summoning his power of speech back.

"You're not mad at us, are ya?" asked Harry, lines of concern and worry darkening his forehead.

"Ah . . . no! No, of course not! It's just that . . . it's so sudden. And we had no idea you were even havin' thoughts of movin' out," said a sober Liam.

"We only talked about it for the first time maybe . . . a week ago?" Harry looked at Louis.

"I have no idea when it was. Time has been strange since we got back together, but I know it was recent," replied Louis.

"It's not far from here—maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops. You guys can come visit whenever you want. And we'll have parties and barbeques too," Harry was hoping against hope the others weren't feeling hurt.

But to his delighted surprise, they were both smiling. Not artificial smiles either. Genuine smiles.

"Even sleep-overs now and then?" asked Niall.

"Even sleep-overs," conceded Louis.

"When can we go see it?" asked Niall, his cheeks turning darker pink by the second.

"Wait a minute there, mate. We have to wait for the realtor to call us and let us know if the sellers accepted our offer first," explained Louis, even though he and Harry both knew they'd pay over the asking price if they had to.

Later, as they lay on Harry's bed, Harry brought something up.

"You know what's embarrassin'? When I first saw the wood floors, the first thought that came to me head was how the wood is not real dark, and not light, but kinda like . . . caramel color, just like your hair."

Louis blushed, and Harry stared at him, not able to help himself. Louis and his spicy, complicated nature. He'd never seen Louis blush even once in front of Simon, but when he was alone with Harry, it was a whole different ball game. Louis could be cool, hard, funny, and he could be dark—whatever was required at the moment. But alone with Harry, he was cuddly, affectionate and completely tractable. Even docile. But still very much in control.

 _Harry loved that. He loved Louis, controversy and all._

Louis burrowed his hands into Harry's hair, and Harry's eyes closed in bliss as Louis' fingers massaged his scalp.

"Know sommat I love about you? You're very feline-like. When I pet you you're a pussy cat, but you're also a lion in the bedroom," Louis was practically purring himself.

"Yeah, and I can sure roar sometimes, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They cuddled for a while, and then Louis' jumped straight up into the air, and with no warning, it scared Harry half out of his mind.

"Wassa matter?" he demanded, having gone from languid and peaceful to fully alert and startled to death in a moment's time.

"We have an awards ceremony tomorrow night! I just remembered it!"

"Well then, let's worry about it in the mornin,'" Harry muttered, wanting to cuddle some more.

Then Harry began to think about it. "This means Simon'll be there, doesn't it?" he questioned.

"Yeah, but no worries, babe. He's happy about the way things went."

Harry nodded. He kept forgetting-they had nothing to hide anymore—not from the world, and not from Simon. No need to get anxious. It was hard getting used to the fact that they were truly free now. No lies, no secrets, no slinking around.

That evening, Louis' cell phone rang, and he couldn't tamp down the elation, yet trepidation that he felt when he saw it was the realtor. He slipped into Harry's room, dragging Harry along with him, and leaving Liam and Niall watching the telly.

"The owners have accepted your offer!" the realtor sounded a bit like a rooster crowing. Truthfully, they hadn't offered much below the asking price, but still, a victory! Harry had to cover his mouth to avoid shouting out with glee. Louis told the realtor they'd come by his office tomorrow to start the paperwork and the preliminaries for escrow. Then they went back out to the living room to tell Liam and Niall.

* * *

Harry and Louis stared at each other in the mirror, both lads equally awestruck. They were in suits, and Louis adjusted Harry's tie lovingly, his fingers lingering on Harry's chest long after he was done with the tie—just wanting to touch him.

"What's the award ceremony for, again?" asked Harry. He always got confused, but then, they'd won too many awards to count, or keep track of.

Louis felt a pang of desire rip through him. No! They couldn't do anything now. They were leaving in half an hour. The car would be waiting out in front.

"No clue—I'll have to ask someone," he said to Harry, grinning.

So he kissed Harry, because that was all they had time for, and knowing that Harry's desire always fed off his, Louis was careful not to get Harry too amorous.

You little minx," Harry nudged him with a hip. "Teasin' me."

"I wanted to kiss you, and more, but I knew we didn't have much time, so this'll have to do."

"It's good . . . it's good," Harry's voice was trembling when they came to the end of another long, deep, searching kiss.

"Funny, that. I quite like it meself," admitted Louis, trying to sound off-hand, fighting against losing his composure.

Harry brushed the back of his fingers down the exposed portion of Louis' neck. Too much shirt and tie in the way, damn it! Louis shuddered, returning the gesture. What Liam had said was true—they just couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

When their names were called as the winners, Louis didn't see Harry. He panicked inwardly, but appeared calm and cool on the outside, despite swiveling his head this way and that. Once the three of them were onstage and in front of the microphone, Harry came running. Louis was certain he would crash into all of them and the microphone too, but by some miracle, he stopped in time and didn't. Louis knew where he'd been—the restroom. Harry always seemed to have to "go" at critical moments. At one ceremony when he was a few seconds late, Harry had even told the audience he'd been "having a wee." Louis thought it was adorable, and luckily, so did the audience. Harry was so down to earth, one of his irresistible charms.

Liam, Niall and Louis each said a few words of thanks, then Louis handed the mic to Harry, who was still a bit winded. "I want to say thanks to everyone who had a part in this . . ." he hesitated and for a moment Louis thought he was going to ask him what they'd won, like he'd done at the last awards ceremony. But Harry came through, shining like the star that he was. "We couldn't have done it without you. Thank you . . ." he said again, simply, blowing his signature kisses. The applause was overwhelming, and they went back to sit down, Louis placing his hand on Harry's leg under the table.

* * *

The next day, Simon called, asking Louis and Harry to come to his office. He sounded sanguine and almost gleeful. Harry and Louis shrugged at each other, got in the Rover, and headed over to Simon's office.

Sitting at his desk and looking supreme, Simon rose as they entered, unlike last time, when he'd remained seated; shaking their hands in turn. Louis felt some skepticism, but decided to give Simon the benefit of the doubt. Simon wasn't tense or fidgety, even upon close examination. He looked strangely at peace, and Louis couldn't remember a time when this had ever happened before.

"You two knew the right moves to make, and you got your message across to the fans nicely. I've heard almost all positive reports," Simon announced. "I'm pleased, and social media is perking up their ears and listening. Some of it is negative, but not enough for me to feel unease about the band's future popularity. In any case, positive or negative news will both call attention to the band, and as they say, negative attention is better than no attention, or indifference, if you will."

 _Get on with it, already!_

Louis and Harry shared a slightly exasperated look.

 _What is he getting to?_

"So . . . " Simon steepled his fingers as was his custom when in thought, and finally got to the meat of the matter.

"Your contract, as you know, is coming up for renewal in August," Simon's wary eyes darted back and forth between blue and green gazes from the other side of his desk.

"I think you know by now that I'd like to renew it. Unless something major comes up between now and then, I have no qualms about another five years."

Simon sat, his face a little on the grim side, as he awaited their reply.

Harry cleared his throat, remembering he had to play a part in it—be involved instead of letting Louis speak for them every time.

"We just made an offer on a house, and it was accepted. Will that affect the five year renewal? Because, like, we want to live together, alone, and we've already told Liam and Niall. We won't negotiate. We want to live together."

Louis' smile showed he was very content with Harry's declaration.

Simon's eyebrows took a significant hike. He was caught off-guard.

"Already? You found a house and bought it already?" Simon was unable to disguise how astounded he was.

 _These lads were dead serious._

"Absolutely," volunteered Louis. He just couldn't stop the complacent look that crept over his face.

Simon contemplated this for only a few moments.

"Alright then. It won't affect the renewal of your contract. I have no issue with you buying the house and living together," Simon stated.

"I'll contact me lawyer when we leave here and arrange for a new contract then," said Louis. "I want everythin' crystal clear," he said firmly, his pale eyes boring into Simon's dark orbs.

"Fair enough. Have him fax it to me when it's completed so I can fax it to my lawyer in return."

"You can be sure of it. Until then, no renewal," Louis reminded Simon.

 _Kind of redundant, no? Of course there would be no renewal until he and his lawyer had read the contract,_ thought Simon. _How ignorant does he think I am? I've been in this business for more years than he's been alive._

But Simon voiced none of this. At this point, he hated to admit it, but he was fortunate to even have Louis and Harry at all, after that stunt they'd pulled in Sweden.

"I'll call Liam and Niall about the renewal, and have them come in to sign also, on another day other than when you two come in . . . " Simon eyed the lads.

"No worries. Liam and Niall know everythin,' and it's fine if they come in on the same day," Louis assured him.

That settled, Harry and Louis left Simon's office and Louis wrote everything down as soon as they got home, putting their heads together in an effort to remember everything they wanted in the contract. They then called Louis' attorney, outlining all the stipulations that were to be included in the new contract. The phone call took the better part of an hour. Mr. Meyers promised to get right on it and have it prepared and ready within a few days. He also congratulated them for about the fourth time before they rang off.

From there, Harry and Louis went to the realtor's office to get the paperwork for the house underway.

It was a very long, draining day, and having barely had time to grab a quick fast food lunch, they heaved a collective sigh and went to a movie they'd been wanting to see to try to de-stress and take it easy. They'd had a lot on their minds. It worked. After subtle cuddling in the very back of the theatre and some shared popcorn and gummy bears, they went home somewhat refreshed.

"We've got another concert day after tomorrow," Harry reluctantly informed Louis later on. He knew Lou was mentally worn out.

"Oh shit. I'd forgotten all about it. But, remember, we're free now. No more dreading concerts."

They turned in early after some take-out Chinese that Niall had ordered and had delivered.

"I'm frazzled," grumbled Louis as they lay In bed, wrapped up in each other's arms.

"It's everythin' that's goin' on."

"I know. The coming out, dealing with Simon, and now the contract, and our new house," Louis smiled as he said the final words.

Eyes closed in rapture as Louis rubbed his head, Harry surrendered to the lure of sleep. Louis eased himself into the crook of Harry's arm and dreamed of a prince. A prince with brilliant green eyes, dimples, and soft, curly hair.


	25. Chapter 25

_Author's note: Here's the last chapter. Hope you've enjoyed the story!_

 _ **Six months later**_

Escrow had seemed to take forever to complete, but at last Harry and Louis were settled in their new home. Life was good. Furnishing and decorating had gone smoothly. They had such comparable tastes that only small details needed a little discussing, and even then, it was infrequently.

The couch and loveseat were blends of browns, blues and greens, and there was really no "theme" to their house—just things that they liked, had caught their eye, and they enjoyed. They had found a lovely oak dinette set that matched the floors and cabinets, and Louis had agreed to Harry's choice of a huge brass bed for their bedroom. Harry had always wanted one, and Louis liked the looks of it, so they'd bought it within seconds of Harry's gasp and finger-pointing at it the moment they had entered the furniture store. Harry seemed unable to look at anything else, and Louis had to admit he thought the Cheshire lad had excellent taste.

The décor and knick knacks were a mixture of Louis and Harry's personalities. There was even a pigeon on one of the end tables. The end result was very aesthetically pleasing. When Louis' and Harry's mothers flew out to visit, they had been astonished at how the young lads had brought it all together and created such a relaxed, homey atmosphere that echoed their own unique characters.

The house was quite a bit more upscale than modest—more luxurious, but it possessed all the features they'd desired, and so they had taken measures to be sure it radiated principally a tranquil, inviting atmosphere, more so than just a showplace. It was their haven, their love nest, and pleasant retreat for friends and occasional visits from family.

Niall and Liam had been thrilled the first time they saw it, as had Stan, and after it was finished to Harry and Louis' satisfaction they joked about hoping to have a home with the same kind of ambience of their own some day when they found the girls of their dreams and got married.

The bulk of the time, Harry and Louis kept the lights dimmed in the living room to capture and sustain an overall serene and romantic atmosphere. It was where they spent quiet time together, having cocktails, tea, or entertaining a few guests. Most importantly, it was where they had their best conversations alone, preserving their cherished open communication and feeling of intimacy.

They'd gradually gotten to know each other all over again. Their talks lasted for hours—they were still enchanted with each other after all this time. Being introduced again after two years took some time, as they had both grown up to quite an extent. They were still the same people, but with more substance and depth. Even so, not a thing had changed on the elemental level. They were still enthralled with each other, attracted to each other like moths to light. Once fallen deeply in love, torn apart for two years plus, and then having found their freedom to love one another again—it was such an unlikely scenario, but on a very deep level, they'd never fallen out of love for a second.

The tour had ended a couple of months ago, and for the first time in months, they were able to take some time off to just relax , and they took this time to write songs, of course. It never seemed like work to them. It was fun, exciting and inspiring. Being able to share their passion for writing was motivating and heartening. It drew them closer yet.

* * *

On this particular day, Louis tip-toed through the front door, hoping Harry wouldn't see him straight away. He held the bundle of puppy under one arm, a new leash and collar in the other, leaving the bowl, dog bed, treats and puppy chow in the car because he couldn't carry it all in one trip, and it was important to him that he catch Harry unawares.

Sneaking around corners, Louis looked for Harry in each room, not finding him. Bewildered and disappointed because he'd wanted to surprise him, he headed for the back yard. That was the only place Harry could be, considering the Rover was parked in the garage.

And there Harry was, busy writing as he sat in a lawn chair on the patio, facing the other way, his back to Louis. Perfect for Louis' plan. Louis paused and admired him for a second. He was concentrating with a pencil held between his teeth. Louis was at a slight angle so that he could see Harry had that serious scowl on his face he sometimes adopted when writing. He was shirtless, in shorts, and barefoot. Louis permitted a smile to steal over his face as his anticipation grew. Just a few more moments now . . .

He slid the sliding glass door open soundlessly, gently setting the puppy on the ground, then closing the door, waiting to see how long it would take the puppy to find Harry. He knew it wouldn't long, as the puppy was very friendly and outgoing.

Exactly seven seconds later, the puppy noticed Harry and got a running start, happily jumping up at him, knocking his notebook out of his lap and startling Harry. But only for a moment. Louis watched as Harry's face transformed from surprise to pure, naked joy.

"Oh my God!" cried Harry, scooping the puppy up and into his lap and hugging him close, disregarding his notebook that had hit the ground, luckily, in one piece. His face being covered with puppy kisses, Harry found a second to glance over his shoulder to see Louis emerging from the sliding glass door.

" _Lou! Lou!_ It's him, isn't it? The one we looked at yesterday!" Harry's voice was beginning to crack with emotion, his eyes looking unusually bright with the tears that were ready to overflow.

Louis simply nodded, not able to hold back his joyous laughter any longer as the pup chewed Harry's fingers and then frolicked over to the grass to pee.

"Look! He's already housebroken!" joked Louis.

Harry got up and hugged Louis, picking him up and spinning him around, as was their custom. "I wondered what you were on to when you left this mornin' and wouldn't say where you were goin.'" Harry grabbed the green collar Louis held and ran to the puppy, trying it on.

"Perfect fit! And it's . . . manly, macho. Like the great watch dog he's gonna be!" Harry was surely going to smile until his dimples fell off, thought Louis.

"Lou, how . . . how did you know?"

They'd gone to look at a few litters of Great Danes yesterday, and Louis had insisted that they be diligent in their final choice, since the dog would be with them for many years. They both fell in love with all of them, of course, but Louis had noticed that there had been one in particular that Harry had seemed to like the most. He hadn't said as much, but Louis felt the promise of a special bond between the two. He wanted Harry to be happy, it was that simple. Louis made a mental note to himself. Still, he didn't want to be hasty with this decision.

Harry hated leaving, but there were a couple more litters they had marked in the newspaper to go see. Last night, visions of Great Danes of every color in his head, Louis had been thinking about that particular pup, and had to admit he liked this pup the best, probably because Harry did, but it didn't matter. He'd decided what he'd do first thing in the morning.

So he'd left the house, resisting Harry's pleas to tell him where he was going. He knew Harry wanted to puppy shop today, but he assured Harry he'd be back soon.

After purchasing the puppy (and being certain it was the right one, which wasn't difficult because the breeder had tied different colored ribbons on all the pups to tell them apart), he'd gone to the pet store to get the supplies then went back and collected the pup before going home.

"Hazza, listen to me," Louis' hands held Harry's cheeks to make him focus on him instead of the pup, even as he felt Harry vibrating with barely leashed exuberance. "I had a distinct feelin' this was the pup you liked the best. If not, we can always take him back and get another one, or keep lookin.' The breeder said there would be no problem if I bring him back."

"No! No, I want him Lou! If you do too, that is. But . . . how did you know this one really grabbed my heart out of the dozens we looked at?"

Louis laughed with abandon. "Haz, I'll give meself credit for knowing you so well, but it really was kinda obvious. You responded to all of them, but this one kept coming up to you, and when he didn't, you went to him . . . over and over. So it was quite apparent, yeah?"

Each litter had consisted of at least nine pups, and several had consisted of a dozen, but of all of them, Harry's face had really brightened when he'd interacted with this one.

"The one with the green ribbon . . . " Harry's demeanor showed his delight with Louis' observance, and he picked Louis up to swing him around again.

"Yep, I made sure of that. But I mean it, Harry. My feelin's won't be hurt. I want you to get exactly what you want."

"If you like this one too, then yes, Lou, I want him! And you _do_ know me. I'm amazed!"

"Like I said, it was rather obvious."

The roly poly fawn colored canine with the enormous feet and huge knobby knees waddled up to Harry. Yes, he'd been the one with a green ribbon, and Louis didn't take that lightly. Everything about their lives together seemed to revolve around green or blue or blue and green. So when he'd gone to the pet store, he'd naturally bought a green collar and leash.

Harry's eyes filled with tears as he helped Louis bring in the supplies, pouring a big bowl of water for the pup and setting his huge bed up in the living room, not sure where the pup would eventually sleep. One thing was for certain . . . he would _not_ be sleeping in bed with the two of them. They had agreed on that point immediately. After that mutual understanding, they laughed and played with the pup for the rest of the day.

That night, they tried to settle the new little guy into his bed, which was so big it made him look like a mouse—but the puppy kept running to them or crying.

"He's lonely. He misses his littermates," said Harry. "He just wants our attention."

"I know," said Louis mildly, rubbing his bleary eyes. "I sure hope he doesn't do this every night though."

They also had to remember to take him outside at least every two hours so he'd get the idea of relieving himself outside, and by morning, they were both a bit haggard.

Harry's phone rang as they were eating eggs on toast for breakfast, the puppy having finished his bowl of puppy chow, and now was lying on the kitchen floor at their feet, chewing on one of his many rawhide treats.

It was Liam. "Hey guys, mind if we come over?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely bubbly, as if he was about to explode with energy. Normal behavior for Niall—but Liam? Not really typical.

"Sure," said Louis. They hadn't yet called Liam and Niall to tell them about their new family member, but Louis figured they'd tell them when they talked to them or saw them, which was almost daily.

Minutes later, Liam pulled into the driveway, and Niall opened the door. Liam was holding something, and Louis figured it was probably a housewarming gift, and he was about to admonish him because they already had everything they could possibly want, when Louis saw that what Liam had was spotted, and it was _wiggling._

Niall couldn't hold his tongue, and blurted out, "Look you guys! A Great Dane puppy!" he was as proud as they had ever seen him.

"You said you wanted one someday, so I hope it isn't too soon . . ." Liam's voice faded as the other puppy galloped over to him, jumping up to try to see the spotted puppy. Niall and Liam's eyes locked.

"Shit, we screwed up Niall!" Liam cried.

"Oh . . . look at that!" Harry was upon Liam in two steps, gathering up the spotted puppy. Louis could do nothing but stand and stare. The puppy, Louis noticed, had a blue collar.

 _Green and blue. Here we go again._

"I'm sorry Lou, Haz," apologized Liam. "We didn't realize you'd already . . . "

"No problem, Li. Just bought him yesterday. I brought him home as a surprise for Harry. I think I recognize that spotted one though," Louis continued thoughtfully. "We saw a spotted litter too. God, we looked at a lot of Great Dane puppies." They had been dancing through his head all night, in fact.

"The spots—it's called harlequin," announced Niall.

"He's soooooo cute, Li and Niall . . . but we can't take him," said Harry wistfully as he watched the two pups playing happily.

"Um, it's not a him. It's a female," said Niall.

Louis stood there, watching Harry squatting down on the floor, a pup under each arm, getting his neck and ears licked from both sides at once, and made a sudden, very rash decision.

"Thanks so much, lads. And we'll take her!"

Harry looked as if he was seriously light-headed as he stood up and grabbed Louis' arm to steady himself, catching Louis' eyes with his own.

"What'd you say, babe?" he asked.

"Why not, Haz? We have one Great Dane, why not two? Ours was crying and lonely last night, and we had to keep going to him to reassure him," Louis explained to Liam and Niall. "Now he won't be lonely—he'll have company!"

They had named the male Jackson that morning, but changed it to Jack, and called the female Jill. Right away, Jill took to Louis, and Jack preferred Harry, as he had from the start. It was twice as much work, but really not, in a way, since they took the two outside together, and simply poured two bowls of puppy chow instead of one. There was twice as much poop though, but the pups brought so much joy that they didn't mind the extra clean-up duties.

When they'd called Stan to tell him the news, he happily offered to babysit, and even stay at their house so the pups wouldn't be stressed by a change in environment. So now they wouldn't have to hire a dog sitter when they went on tour, visited their families, or whenever they'd be gone overnight. Stan was a great animal lover, and said he'd be over tomorrow to meet the new family members.

Liam and Niall left a little while later, claiming they had errands to do, but Louis saw the twinkle in their eyes. They were leaving Harry and Louis alone to bond with their new pooches.

Harry and Louis followed them to the door, hugging each in turn.

"I can't thank you enough," said Harry. "She's the best gift ever."

"You're sure it's not too much? We won't be offended if—" Liam was offering again to take away the extra burden of another dog.

"No way!" said Louis. "It's the perfect answer for our dilemma. Jack needed company," he finished firmly.

They watched Niall and Liam drive away, quickly returning to the living room to be sure the pups weren't destroying something. Each was chewing a bone in the new dog bed.

"They look funny in that massive dog bed with about four feet of room left over," laughed Harry.

"You just wait a few months, mate. Eventually we'll have to buy another bed because they both won't fit in it. You saw how big the adults are."

Harry nodded in awe—he found it hard to imagine these pups being as enormous as the various parent Great Danes they'd seen.

They put the pups in the back yard and watched them gallop around clumsily, tripping over their own feet, occasionally streaking past the window, trying to catch each other. A laugh a minute.

Great, innit? Our own house, our own dogs, and we're a family now," Harry said dreamily as he languidly rested his head on Louis' shoulder as they sat on the couch. "I feel like it's a real home now."

Louis slumped down somewhat to give Harry the maximum amount of comfort.

"Right, I love it, Haz. Come on, bad boy. Let's go cuddle in the bedroom. Harry knew what "cuddle" was sometimes a euphemism for. And this was one of those times. His heart immediately sped up.

The had thought their passion for each other would have cooled down, or even just leveled off by now, but instead it remained a bright flame that could be stoked with barely a gesture or touch, and seemed to burn even brighter if they were separated for a few hours, or Lord help them, a couple of days.

The pups got along wonderfully, Jill being a little smaller than Jack. She held her own, and was, in fact, the boss. Jack was gentle with her, and as they rough housed, they didn't even notice Harry and Louis had disappeared. It was the best decision they could have made because the pups would keep each other busy. Harry and Louis could vanish into the bedroom without having to worry about a puppy crying, and they were hoping to lose a lot less sleep now.

* * *

Harry and Louis had gotten married secretly only a month ago, with just a few friends and family members present. It had been a secret wedding to eliminate any disturbance from the press. It had taken place in their own back yard. Harry had cried like a baby, and Louis, being the stoic he was in front of others, only shed a tear or two, but was not embarrassed at all by Harry's tears. It was just the way Curly was—emotional and sensitive, and Louis wouldn't have him any other way.

Niall's nose and cheeks had been red, and he held a tissue, and even Liam was sniffling a bit. Jay and Anne had cried openly, their husbands enduring it with smiles, and Simon, who was also in attendance, turned his head away a couple of times, Harry and Louis assuming he was regaining control over his own emotions.

Gruff as the man might be, and as much as he might grumble, Simon did, after all, have a heart. He had matured himself, just as the boys had. He figured he might as well be pleasant, that even though the lads had predominated, they'd earned it. And this was benefiting Simon, after all. 1D was at their all-time height of popularity. And besides, he'd always liked the boys—he'd just gotten a little bit too carried away "running the show," so to speak.

Harry played coy when it was time to kiss after the vows had been recited and rings had been placed on the correct fingers; Louis had to coax him in, but Harry ended up holding Louis' face as he usually did when kissing, and then they didn't want to stop. Liam made a hushed comment about "being sickening," and everyone laughed, effectively easing Harry's tension.

The reception, taking place afterward, still at their house, was simple and brilliant, with a cake and plenty of food and drinks.

Harry and Louis asked that donations be made to a charity in lieu of gifts.

"You're a bloody tease, Harold," Louis mock complained as they went in to the bedroom.

"What?" asked Harry, confused.

"I was jus' rememberin' our weddin,' and how you played hard to get."

Harry colored up. "I'm sorry, hedgehog. I have no trouble kissin' you in front of tens of thousands, but kinda got out of sorts with just friends and family. Pretty dumb, yeah?"

"No, just you, Harry. You're unique."

"And so are you, Lou. You're me Superman. And wearing your Superman shirt at the reception wasn't necessary, you know."

 _He had. He really had. And it had been a glowing success. He reflected on how almost everyone had giggled when he'd changed into it, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. . ._

"You're a smart ass, Styles."

"You're a bad ass, Sassamaster."

They both laughed.

Harry's heart felt like an ember ready to roar into an inferno if it were fanned by Louis the slightest bit. He wrapped his arms around Louis and breathed in deeply, loving his warm scent. He did that a lot these days, having been denied for such an eternity.

Seeing Louis every day, living in the same house, had made him feel worse than deprived. He'd been wrecked.

After the hug, Harry's hands caused wonderful sensations when his fingers touched Louis' lightly, sensually, then weaved them together. It was tender. All Louis' senses were shot to new heights. The sound of Harry's quickened breathing had to be the most thrilling of all.

Harry spoke quietly, sitting on the bed after flicking Louis' fuzzy red slippers to the side so he wouldn't trip on them. "You know, we're not who we used to be. We're better. More mature, better able to communicate, and I'm proud of us for that."

"I wasn't all I was capable of bein' without you, Harry. I needed your support, and I needed to feel your love. I never wanted anyone else."

"You've always had my support and love, Boo, although I didn't voice it. We're two hearts in one home. You've always brought me home, even when we couldn't be together. You _are_ my home. Now I can touch what I see, whereas I couldn't before . . . "

"The glass was half empty; now it's half full," Louis murmured.

Harry nodded and said softy, "I never want to feel like that again. I was tryin' to remember how it felt to have a heartbeat." He hugged Louis tight again, sighing, holding Louis' head against his chest.

" _You're_ me heartbeat."


End file.
